


Amaro

by oaken



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Magic, Characters added as they are introduced - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Possible future nsfw, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-05-26 21:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15009638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oaken/pseuds/oaken
Summary: Four young people have to navigate their way through young adulthood - job responsibilities, personal setbacks and newly budding romance. It all begins with a single sneaked photograph.[Promptis and Lunyx Model AU]





	1. Into the Storm

A lost gust of wind ripped open the window and invaded Prompto’s room. It was a messenger of the storm that painted the horizon dark with heavy, slowly rolling clouds. The wind that heralded the storm pushed its way further and scattered several stacks of papers on the table.

Prompto’s nervous fingers reached out to grasp as many of the runaway pages as they could, not caring that his grip left yet another set of crinkles on the them. He secured the papers in a single pile with the weight of his smartphone and got up from the old chair. A quick loop around his backpack brought Prompto to the window that he slammed shut. The glass trembled from impact, and curtains that had flapped in the wind settled back into their place. Light fabric brushed along the young man’s sides as it fell back down from the new heights it had just soared.

Prompto sighed and turned the handle. A breath of fresh air while studying was not worth all the work it required to keep his notes in one place. The wind was a welcome refreshment in the stuffy attic apartment, but it had also been the fifth time he had to leave the homework to retrieve his papers after yet another vicious attack of a sudden breeze. Hardly an atmosphere fit for studying, and yet... He’d been at it for several hours already.

The inkling of laziness, a tired wish to give up came with every distraction he had. This was no exception, and Prompto found himself lingering by the window instead of turning his back on it and returning to the table. He glanced outside, allowing himself to indulge for just a moment longer.

The view of Insomnia behind the window was growing darker as clouds continued to roll in. The initially pale greys of rain clouds were replaced by much more saturated, intimidating tones. The city seemed to draw in storms like a magnet, and this one didn’t differ from the rest. If the previous experiences were to be trusted, it was just a matter of time before lightning came forking down upon the metropolis and everyone hurried inside to escape the inevitable rainfall.

Blue eyes that had watched the brewing of storm outside refocused their gaze when the shadows between buildings became deep enough for him to see his own reflection. At the sight of himself, a frown replaced Prompto’s previously curious gaze. Had the dark circles under his eyes gotten that bad already?

He’d been a college student for a mere couple of months, but the lack of sleep had already seeped into his very features and made itself at home. Cheeks, once supple and round, had sunken in, bright eyes were rimmed by traces of all-nighters. Even the smile and careless joy had given way to a solemn expression. A hollow shell of himself stared back at Prompto from the cool glass of the window. ‘Easy life of a student’.

Endless chances for independence, friendship and romance that were supposed to await him in the academic space alongside his studies were crushed to dust. Assignments piled upon one another, and hours had to be spent trying to keep up and desperately resisting the slow drowning in the sea of responsibilities. The adult life that awaited ahead, after all this, promised nothing better either. With a bitter sense of injustice growing in his chest day by day, Prompto had soon realized that all the hopeful promises were mere lies, and the best time of his life was already over, wasted on a shy and lonely childhood.

If the problem was just college, he felt like he would manage despite economics not being a topic he was particularly enthusiastic about. But then there were chores that could not be overlooked and small, odd side-jobs that kept him around in the first place. Prompto was mostly alone in his struggle for money that allowed him to eat and afford the apartment. The side-jobs, while helpful in a monetary sense, swallowed what little free time he had with greed otherwise reserved for hungry wolves.

A sigh escaped the young man as he turned away from the window and the weight of his spiraling thoughts. Perhaps it was the time to call it a day on his studying. He had finished all the homework and assignments that were to be handed in the next two days and gotten started on one of the longer projects. There would be no time to study the next evening and perhaps even the one after, he was supposed to be helping out on a construction site then.

The amount of work that sat in messy piles on his table was hardly a small feat, however, and one Prompto felt like he deserved a small treat for. He had just the treat in mind too. A reward he chose after a hard work was always the same no matter the time or place - a walk around town with his camera.

That thought alone made warmth bloom in his chest. The grave expression lightened up into a soft hint of a smile. Even when everything else made him feel cold and painfully detached, the thought of taking the camera and seeking out some nice shots was always a welcome one. There was a solace to be found in the beauty of the world even when his own mind remained restless.

Prompto picked up the wool-lined jacket from the chair where he had placed it to make the rickety wooden seat into a more comfortable one. It still radiated the absorbed warmth of his own body heat. Prompto didn’t hesitate to fasten the buttons and envelop himself further into the welcoming heat. He’d need it.

It was quite obvious that autumn was settling in. Nights grew longer, and rays of summer sun had long since given way to the chill of the wind. Prompto disliked freezing, but the potential reward of some nice photographs was enough to send him outside no matter the time of year or the weather forecast. Of course, that didn’t mean he never paid the consequences by getting a heat stroke or a nasty cold, depending on the weather. The number of times that had happened was quite embarrassing to name out loud even if he still considered everything worth the photos taken.

Perhaps, it was best not to tempt the fate this once. There was far too much work to be done for him to stay on top of his studies, and a head stuffy from a cold would do nothing to make the task an easier one. He decided to bundle up further – his jacket was quickly accompanied by a worn out pair of combat boots, a scarf, pair of dark leather gloves and a beanie. Prompto gave himself a once-over in the mirror as he pulled the beanie over the mess of the blond hair and tips of his ears. He was certainly not an icon of sleekest fashion in Insomnia even by a stretch. But if the getup meant he was less likely to have to struggle through his cramming sessions with a dripping nose or a headache - it was well worth it.

Prompto made his way over to the corner of the room where a heavy closet made its home. He slid the door open and stood on his tiptoes. Gloved fingers gingerly gripped a container that he kept tucked away in the top shelf. His photography equipment, organized in compartments and looked after with care that any other item in his room could only envy. Hugging the precious burden to his chest like a mother would her firstborn, he carried the camera gear to the bed to decide on what to take along.

The following fifteen minutes were spent on just that. Prompto was aware he could not risk dragging everything out in this weather in case it started pouring - there was only so much an umbrella could protect. Or his back - handle. Owning photography equipment and hauling it around was a killer weight carrying exercise.

Loving fingers tucked his camera and a couple of lenses in a sturdy travel backpack before returning the rest to its place on the top shelf. Prompto propped the backpack’s sling on the left shoulder and set out, swinging keys to the apartment in his gloved fingers. The weight on his shoulder was familiar, reassuring, and he found himself striding outside with a bright grin.

***

The smile was not a long-lived one.

A gust of wind whipped Prompto’s face the moment he stepped outside the apartment building. With a pained squint souring his expression, the young man glanced at the sky. Clouds were nearly overhead, and he could see flashes of light behind the darkness - storm could start at any moment. The wind wouldn’t let up either and almost ripped the beanie off his head mere seconds later. Only quick reflexes and a steel grip saved it from being hopelessly lost somewhere in downtown Insomnia. It was not the most fortunate weather for wearing hats. Prompto pulled the beanie off and tucked it away in the bag next to his camera with a sigh. Immediately, the wind was howling in his ears, and the sudden chill sent a shiver up his spine. A sense of regret seeped into the previously firm resolve.

Prompto hesitated, shuffling on his feet. This could turn out to be worst of his ideas this term yet. Maybe it was not too late to turn on his heel and head back inside? The warm and dry apartment appeared more inviting than ever. It was a much safer bet for keeping his health from deteriorating further. The photographer in him won the moment he took a longer look around, however.

Sky, darkened with heavy clouds in dark greys and ink-like blues. Against them, in the distance, the majestic buildings of central Insomnia - a whole city alit with colors that streamed from the windows, flickered from traffic lights and giant screens displaying advertisements. Prompto’s hand slipped into the backpack to pull out his most prized possession and capture the moment.

After that, it was the camera in his hands that guided Prompto onwards through the streets in series of picture-perfect moments. Dramatic light and shadow play on a wall of a run-down bar downtown. Teens in scruffy, warm clothes chasing pigeons out of their yard. A black cat perched upon a trash can. Blurred reflections of car tail lights in curved surfaces of other vehicles. First raindrops running down the glass window of a jewelry shop. A child trying to trace the gold patterns on the sleek pavement panels in central Insomnia.

Prompto lowered his camera at the last one and watched the little girl with a smile as a man - dad or uncle, he wasn’t sure - hurried over to pick her up. The man did not scold the child for playing on the ground, simply cradled the little one against his chest and carried her off. The girl was still reaching out for the beautiful patterns even as they left, too curious to give up so easily. Odd sense of warmth welled up in Prompto’s chest. There was something comforting and familiar in the scene.

It reminded him of how his own family. He had known he was adopted from very early on, but Prompto found that the love of his parents was no less real because of that. Even now when they didn’t have the resources to come with him to Crown City.

A sudden wave of feelings brimmed inside of him, and Prompto felt his hands on the camera shake. He missed them. This was an opportunity, of course it was. A chance at a better life for him and his whole family down the road, a chance at repaying for all the love he had received over the years. And even so-

It was a lonely path to walk.

A stray raindrop landed on his forehead and made Prompto refocus. He blinked the bit of moisture out of his eyes and wiped his face in the sleeve of his jacket. There was no way he planned to soak his camera, feelings would have to wait for a better time. With rain falling in small, cool droplets at increasing frequency, he had to shield himself and his equipment immediately.

Hand reached in the bag to pull out the black umbrella - cheapest one he could find that still did its job. After his initial struggle to get the slightly bent device to cooperate and open was a success, Prompto propped it above his head, supporting it by tucking the handle in his armpit. Both hands focused on the camera as he made sure that the device and lens had not suffered any damage.

The wind had no mercy, and a sudden gust ripped the umbrella from Prompto’s grip, sending it into the sky. As the next passing breeze tousled the messy strands of his hair, rain fell in small, cold droplets on Prompto and his camera alike. The one carrying the umbrella didn’t cease, however, and whirled the crooked device into the air towards the heart of Insomnia.

His initial reaction was a whine of unpleasant surprise, but determination quickly overpowered the need to complain as a drop of water landed on the display of the camera. Not today! Prompto wiped raindrop off and stuffed the camera back in his bag for safekeeping. The thick layer of fabric should protect it for some time still.

Blue eyes narrowed as Prompto spun to face the direction his umbrella was being carried off to. The heels of his boots steadied him on the ornate sidewalk. Prompto pulled the other sling of the backpack on to secure it and the precious contents on his back. Then he took a deep breath. A warning hissed to the wind as a spring into run sent him dashing forward.

“Oh no, you don’t!”

Both hands swung along with his strides as Prompto chased the umbrella across the gold-decorated tiles. Raindrops aimed for his face and eyes without mercy, making him blink. The weather’s spite also ignited the passion to pursue the runaway belonging even further. Looping around such obstacles as puddles and people that hurried to hide under a roof slowed Prompto a little, but his limbs pushed him onwards regardless. There was a familiar strain and rush of endorphins as he ran, he was breathing deeper, calmer.

The winds were ever-changing, and even the whims of the particular one that had ripped his umbrella away didn’t last forever. The black object had begun its descent on the other side of the busy main street. There were cars waiting - some more patiently than others - for the lights to change. Prompto saw this as his chance at success in his chase and increased the speed, a grin of victory starting to form.

Thankfully, he was as fast with stopping as he was with running. Lights changed before he could make it, and the stream of traffic continued its course. Prompto skidded to a halt, his hands flew up to help him balance on his tiptoes as his body threatened to topple forward. A panicked sound and some wild flailing seemed to do the trick, and Prompto fell safely back to his heels before he could face-plant into a passing sedan.

Too close for comfort, and the driver still gave him a dirty look. Prompto tried to ignore it, instead looking across the street to see if he could spot where the umbrella had landed. There were no bent, black umbrellas in the sky any longer - a likely sign he would be able to retrieve it and make his way back to apartment still partially dry. Unless… Had it gotten stuck in a tree? Anxious blue gaze scanned the opposite side of the road with rising panic. He was good at running, not jumping.

It took a moment for the initial stream of traffic to thin out enough for him to catch a glimpse. When he did, however, Prompto didn’t hesitate. He didn’t blink, catch his breath or think it over. There were times when the getting the right photograph warranted immediate action. He pulled the camera from his backpack and aligned it with his field of vision. A click, barely audible even to him, drowned out by the sound of cars whizzing by and rain pattering upon the metal roof of a building next to him.

Prompto did not look as the shot he had taken appeared in the display of his camera. It warmed the dark fabric of his jacket with reflections of color. A photo of a young man in a suit holding onto a runaway umbrella - he was visible behind the blurred lights of passing cars. Prompto buried his camera under the fold of his jacket - an action taken instinctively to protect it from moisture.

As if in trance, the photographer continued to look at his subject until the terrifying realization that the other was looking at him too dawned upon him. The blood in Prompto’s veins froze when he realized the flash of the camera must have caught his unsuspecting subject’s attention.

Shit.

Weather and traffic alike had obviously made an alliance with the specific goal of absolutely turning one Prompto Argentum to dust that day. Lights changed once more before he could even concoct the simplest of escape plans along the lines of ‘turn and bolt, and pray to the Six that guy isn’t too good at running’.

Prompto remained rooted to the spot, but the man on the other side of the street sure did not. He made his way across the street, carrying the umbrella. Thankfully, the sight was everything but intimidating - the stranger attempted to close the spiteful device but it remained open against all pressure applied. Prompto stifled a nervous snort.

“Hey,” the stranger greeted, his tone somewhat flat and his gaze upon the camera, not Prompto himself.

The stranger held out his poor runaway possession to the frozen photographer. Prompto took the fact that it was not immediately used as a weapon as a good sign for his likelihood to survive this encounter. He grabbed it from the other’s grasp - so hasty and clumsy in his motions he almost lost the grip once again as a strong breeze hit them. Shit. Fuck. Get a grip, man!

“H-hey… Thanks,” the blond’s attempt to sound casual went about as bad as he had imagined it going, and the already weak voice cracked.

“So...” the stranger drawled, eyes still peeled on the camera the corner of which peeked out from Prompto’s jacket.

“Y-yeah?”

“You took a picture of me.”

“...Oh.”

If his blood had been damn near freezing temperatures already, it hit nuclear winter about then. Prompto fumbled for words. His free hand flew up to wave off the implications as some sort of defense. Not that he was doing anything creepy, he just-... Took a picture of a complete stranger across the street. ‘Good luck explaining that one,’ his brain provided even more judgment. Prompto shook his head to get rid of the thoughts, earning a confused look from the other.

“I-... Yeah, I did. Sorry I didn’t ask first. You were across the street. And, uh, well, the shot was really nice!”

“I see…?”

“Here, hold on! Let me show you!” the blond hurriedly pulled his camera out with trembling fingers, letting the open umbrella drop at his feet.

If there was a chance to redeem himself and his poor life decisions, this was it. With a newfound determination, Prompto tackled his camera. A few droplets hit the display, and he hurried to wipe them before accessing the gallery of recent photographs. The trouble with weather refused to cease, however. Yet more rain kept falling on the camera, and Prompto had to wipe everything off before his camera could be ruined, a crinkle of a frown settling in between his brows as he was cursing the unfortunate timing.

Sudden shade descended above him, and the rain droplets stopped their relentless attack on the device. Prompto looked up to find the stranger having stepped closer and picked up the very same black umbrella that had caused all of this commotion in the first place. He held it above both of their heads. There was something of an awkward smile pulling at the corners of the stranger’s mouth.

“Don’t ruin your camera over this.”

It had been impossible to take a proper look at the other before. At first, it was the distance, then nerves had gotten in the way of him seeing clearly. Prompto had been so busy fumbling about in his own awkward excuses that he had missed the chance to look at the man he had accidentally engaged in this mutually awkward conversation. That changed with the same man mere foot away, holding an umbrella over them. Prompto swallowed. He had to actively resist reaching for his camera once again - a personal mental struggle that happened around beautiful people sometimes.

The blue eyes that watched Prompto with curious concern were lined by thick, dark eyelashes. Black hair and dark suit framed the man’s face and body alike with a perfected chic Prompto could only attribute to a stylist and impressive amounts of money. As the traffic lights changed to red once more and the warm tinge illuminated the side of young man’s face, Prompto had to clench his fingers to keep them still. No. More. Creepy. Photos.

“Thanks. So, uh, here,” Prompto finally managed to pull himself out of the stunned daze and show the photograph he had taken to the accidental subject.

The man leaned closer to take a look, and a scent of citrus and wood wafted in the air. Not only were his looks expensive, he also smelled the part. A little intimidated, Prompto held the camera out a bit further towards the other as if that would prevent the safe distance from decreasing even more. He could feel his ears burning as the man took a long moment to inspect the photograph of himself.

A thousand fears raked Prompto’s brain meanwhile. Perhaps it was a terrible shot? Maybe the man really did not want to be photographed and would try to fight him? Sue him?! What if he tried to smash the camera?!? Instinctively, Prompto’s grip on the device tightened at the last thought. He would die protecting it then.

The stranger said nothing and did nothing for a long while. It had been just a few seconds, but Prompto’s mind howled continuously that the stranger was taking way too long, and that there was trouble to be had. The grip on the camera tightened even more, Prompto's knuckles turning white.

“It’s a pretty good shot,” the final judgment came.

The shocked eyes of the photographer were quick to snap their gaze up to the stranger once again. The man was smiling, and his unexpected compliment, spoken in tone softer than anything he had uttered before, made Prompto’s chest fill with a warmth of pure pride. The blond reached up to scratch the back of his neck as a delighted albeit shy chuckle left his lips.

“Oh, man, thanks! I was honestly worried you were on your way here to kick my ass.”

“I might have been,” the stranger added with a chilling drawl to his tone.

“Good thing that the picture was nice then, huh?”

Prompto didn’t find it in himself to be scared anymore, seeing that an amused smile was pulling at the corners of the other’s mouth. Tension drained from the tense body, and Prompto reached to take his umbrella back - much calmer this time. He could hardly let the man struggle against every gust of the wind that threatened to send the thing flying once again or bend it the wrong way if it was not aligned against the wind carefully.

The handle was warm and a little clammy where the other had obviously clung to it for a better grip. The feeling was hardly unpleasant when a good hold on the umbrella meant Prompto’s camera and himself wouldn’t get soaking wet on the way home. And he was about ready to be done with-...

Wait.

“You don’t have an umbrella yourself. Are you okay? I can walk with you for a bit! Where are you going?”

“It’s fine. I’m waiting for my ride. Under a roof.”

“Oh!” Prompto mentally punched himself.

“So, uh… I should get going. Keep the picture, it’s nice!”

Prompto gave a quick nod of acknowledgment, a beaming smile on his face as he did. It would have felt like a loss to have to get rid of the best photograph he’d taken that day. And seeing that the stranger did not threaten his life in any way to get Prompto to get rid of it… Perhaps he could push his luck yet.

He caught up to the other who was already on his way towards the crossing, soles of the combat boots causing small splashes as Prompto chose not to loop around a puddle. The stranger stopped, hearing the steps, and turned to face Prompto with a confused frown.

“Do you mind if I put it on my Instagram?” Prompto blurted out before he could reconsider and just decide against it for the sake of peace.

“Huh?” the question seemed to leave the stranger oddly shaken for a moment.

“I-I mean... It’s no big deal, I promise! I have, like, a hundred followers tops so not that many people would see it? Most of them are my coursemates! You don’t have to say yes! It’s okay! I can delete it if you want…?” nervous string of words that he could barely follow the logic of himself spilled past Prompto’s lips.

He could feel he had messed up somehow. It was hard to pinpoint how exactly, but the man’s shoulders were squared and his gaze - a lot more distant than before. Perhaps he didn’t want his face online? Taking a moment to consider, it seemed likely. The stranger had just retrieved the runaway umbrella for him as a kind but unnecessary gesture, and that should have been plenty. Still, there was an ache in Prompto's chest that coaxed him to act and not let the shot go to waste.

“O-okay,” the man stammered out, his voice unsure for the first time. “If you really want to, I don’t mind. The ‘putting it on your Instagram’ part.”

“Really, you don’t have to-”

“No. Do it,” this time the man cut him off with eerie confidence. “I don’t mind.”

“Thank you...”

For a moment the two stood in complete silence, staring at each other. The patter of raindrops on Prompto’s umbrella and the chill in the air somehow overpowered the sounds of cars mere feet away. Maybe they had stopped for yet another red light, Prompto didn’t look. He could feel the intensity of the blue, unsure gaze of the stranger upon him with his entire body. There was no ill intent behind it, however, as it never soured or turned angry.

Prompto offered a short nod to let the other know he would heed his words. His tongue was tied, and a sudden wave of anxiety washed over him as he realized that he had no idea how to go about the situation. Was he supposed to say something now?

It was a horn of a car that brought Prompto out of the contemplation and also caught the attention of the other man. Both turned their heads to look. Where Prompto glanced at the sleek Rolls-Royce that had signaled with curiosity and confusion in his demeanor, the other seemed to recognize the car. The stranger’s expression turned into a somewhat sullen frown.

“I gotta go.”

Before Prompto gathered his focus to say some kind of goodbye or even follow with an umbrella to ensure the man didn’t get soaked any further, he was left with no choice in the matter. The stranger was surprisingly swift on his feet and halfway across the street by the time Prompto parted his lips to speak.

Seeing that there was no need for words, Prompto closed his thin lips once more and followed the other with a gaze instead as the handsome stranger ran through the rain to the black car parked on the other side of the busy street. Prompto watched the car’s door open, the man get inside and close the door behind him. With that the car took off, merging effortlessly into the flow of Insomnia’s traffic with a smoothness only an experienced driver could manage. The blond’s hands itched to take yet another photo as the Rolls-Royce took off, but he reprimanded himself. Plenty of trouble with one picture already. Maybe another day.

Just seconds later the black luxury car was no more discernible from the rest as more distance was put between the vehicle and the photographer with every passing moment. The realization was a wakeup call for Prompto’s body, it seemed. He felt a slight wetness in one of his boots. Prompto’s expression twisted with disgust as the cold moistness soaked the bottom of his sock. Gross.

It was about time to stop standing in the middle of a puddle and head back. The wet boot squeaked as Prompto turned on his heel and began his hasty march back towards the downtown where his apartment awaited along with a warm bed. He had earned some rest. Camera cradled to his chest and shadow of a smile curving his lips, Prompto hastened his step into a light run.

***

  
“A friend of yours?” a question from the driver’s seat broke the silence as they set out on their way back to the agency, leaving the strange photographer behind.

Noctis leaned his head against the cool surface of the tinted window, only acknowledging the question with a tentative hum. Ignis was always overly concerned with every single area in his life far beyond the limits of his duty. That happened to include social interactions the man believed Noctis did not get his fair share of. Ignis also blamed the withdrawn nature of Noctis’ on the lack of ‘positive interaction with his peers’.

If it had stopped with comments alone, Noctis wouldn’t even protest. Well, too much anyway. But it never did. There were encouragements after encouragements to go and ‘mingle’ with people his age. Sometimes it felt like his manager was purposefully setting up situations in which Noctis would have to talk to someone new. In silent spite, however, the younger one prided himself in not having fallen for a single one of those attempts. This was to be no exception.

Noctis fished out a smartphone from the pocket of his suit. The soft hum of car's engine and the sound of rain faded into the background as his phone's screen lit up. The familiar tune of King’s Knight filled the silence. Ignis seemed to take it as his cue to give up the topic. For now, at least.

The car continued its smooth, silent ride until its conclusion at a large gate behind which a spacious, modern building towered like a glass and steel giant. Curved letters spelled out its name in gleaming gold - Caelum Modeling Agency.

“We’ve arrived.”

Noctis sighed and closed the game. His gaze turned to the view behind the raindrop-covered window. The rain itself had stopped for a moment, but the storm was closer, dark skies alit with lightning a mere mile away. Like flash of a camera.

***

  
The digital dial read 2:03 AM when Prompto finally allowed his body to collapse on the cheap mattress. He pulled the covers up to his nose and curled up in the bed with his back facing the wall. Through the striped cotton curtains, flashes of lightning turned the nightly Insomnia bright before letting it disappear in darkness over and over again. Crashes of lightning bolts and thunder rumbled all around yet the building Prompto resided in seemed relatively safe, resting at the very eye of the storm.

Sheets rustled as Prompto settled in. The little walk had revitalized him, and he had ended up returning to his studies and finishing the project at the cost of some hours of sleep. The feeling of utter peace and accomplishment that soaked deep down to his very bones at the thought left Prompto blissfully tired. But not tired enough to not tinker with his phone before falling asleep.

An ink-smeared hand reached for the phone on his nightstand and dragged it under the covers with him. Prompto decided that he had earned a few minutes of indulgence before sleep. Perhaps he could play King’s Knight. Or upload some of the pictures he had taken that day since those had been backed up on his phone and cloud drive already.

Despite the temptation to open the game, Prompto knew that it meant he’d spend another hour awake, tapping away with fervent passion. His 6:30 AM future self that had to be up for a class would hate the everliving hell out of him. Instagram was a safer bet.

A tap on the rainbow icon brought up the newest picture from a classmate Prompto was following. It was a selfie with him dramatically ‘asleep’ on top of a finished assignment. With a chuckle, Prompto typed in a sympathetic comment and liked the picture. It did ease his mind a little to see that he was not always alone in his struggle, even if it was just in academic front.

His curiosity sent him further down. A doodle of an elephant on a napkin from a coffee shop date. Breathtaking scenery shot from some exclusive resort in Altissia. A couple of pictures of dogs and cats. Prompto felt the little glimpses in the lives of the others easing worries over his own, making him forgetful and sleepy. He blinked a few times to keep himself alert. Since he was online, he should post a couple pictures of his own.

Several meticulous minutes were spent struggling with the choice of filters to apply to a picture he had taken of pigeons mid-flight after the teenagers had chased them off the ground - a deep grey set of wings against the white wall of a corporate building they had been photographed in front of. Only when the picture was honed to perfection, Prompto posted it. No likes came rolling in, but he expected it. He had started only recently and had only a handful of followers most of which must have been asleep at this hour. It would be wise to follow their example. And yet-

He went back to the newest picture in the gallery. A striking young man reaching out to grip an umbrella with both hands, his expression taut with focus and candid innocence. Despite the dark hair and suit, the stranger was nothing short of radiant.

“I need to take thirty pictures to get one decent selfie, and you can chase an umbrella and look like some sort of celebrity,” Prompto mumbled a complaint to the picture.

Still, he did not hesitate to post it. The picture took no fine-tuning before it was ready. The only hiccup was the description. Prompto was at a loss what to type. Something funny? Descriptive? An emoji?

Brain functioned in funny ways that late, and the blond found himself typing ‘my hero <3’. The goofy description had him snorting in amusement as his fingers hurried to type it. Yep, that was going to be the one. He could regret his life choices in the morning when a couple of people would have seen the picture and the ability to feel embarrassment returned to him. Currently, Prompto had none.

Same went for energy as the young man found his lids growing ever heavier with every breath. He checked the alarm for safety to make sure he would actually get up the next morning, no matter how groggy, and placed the phone back on the nightstand. Prompto curled up with his face pressed comfortably into the pillow. The storm still raged in full force, but his exhausted body ignored the loud strikes of lightning and demanded its due in hours of sleep.

By the time Prompto’s phone alit with the first Instagram notification he was already deep in the world of dreams.


	2. Makeup Brush from Hell

Noctis frowned when the makeup artist approached him yet again, but there was no place to run. His only option was an unwilling surrender as he was enveloped in the light scent of powder and jasmine perfume. The woman’s form blocked out lights of the set as she worked. It felt like the last touchup had been a mere couple of minutes ago. And yet there she was again, evening out imperfections and packing on more of something Noctis could not name to save his life.

The problem many models faced - sticking to their measurements - never proved to be a difficulty to Noctis. Not with Ignis looking out for his meals and the demanding sessions in the gym with Gladio. Nor did he struggle with the bright lights or strict directions of the photographer. There were only two things that truly irked the young model about his job. One was the ridiculous celebrity treatment when he was nothing of the sort - a topic which Ignis could argue about for days on end. The other thing-

And there it was. Noctis’ nose scrunched up as the fluffy brush ghosted over it. The makeup artist gave him a warning in form of a stern stare before continuing the touchup with even more of the rigorous brushing. Noctis couldn’t help an impatient groan as the woman doubled over his nose more times than she really needed to. A payback for his complaining, no doubt.

“Please be patient, Mr. Caelum. We’ll be done soon.”

Despite the polite words, there was an edge to them that warned Noctis - he had been wearing his makeup artist’s patience thin for a while now. He pursed his lips to stifle an audible protest when the brush wouldn’t relent. He would not give her the satisfaction.

‘Julia’, if her necklace was to be believed, wore her dark hair in a loose ponytail and temper - concealed faintly under a thin layer of politeness. The fluffy monster of a brush in her hand had become Noctis’ mortal enemy over the course of the shoot, but it had not broken his spirit. He’d endure for the pure spite of it.

What Noctis was not aware of was the fact that his struggle had an audience. It had solicited a quaint little chatter in the dark behind the lights of the set.

The twin silver bracelets on Lunafreya’s wrist clinked when she rose her hand to cover her mouth, lips curved in amusement. She watched Noctis and his failed attempt to display no emotion regarding the touchups. The dark eyebrows crinkling were a dead giveaway to his irritation. There was also his chin, taut with spite and propped as high as he could get it to make the makeup artist’s job a tougher one.

“Oh, Ignis, you were right. He truly remains unchanged,” there was a fondness in Luna’s words regardless.

The man next to her simply shook his head and adjusted the glasses that had slipped a little lower on his nose than he appreciated them being. If Lunafreya thought this to be the extent of Noctis’ spite, she was grossly underestimating the young man’s dislike for tasks scheduled for early morning hours. Or consumption of vegetables. Or anything that required adult responsibility. Ignis found himself exasperated with his charge more often than not.

“He cannot remain a child forever, miss.”

Concern that laced Ignis’ voice made Luna look at him. Her light amusement gave way to much more serious expression, something distant and sad in the depths of the purest blue. The delicate fingers twisted twin bangles on her wrist, once more causing a clink.

“Do not be so harsh, Ignis.”

“My lady-...?”

Lunafreya invited Ignis to follow with a light nod of her head as she turned to head off the set into the hallway. The wooden floor echoed her footsteps, the sound of clicking heels mingling with voices of the creative team and electronic music coming from speakers in the corners of the studio. Eventually, it drowned out among the other noises.

Ignis accepted the silent invitation in his own solemn quiet. He adjusted his glasses once again and followed Luna out of the room. There was a crease in his brows as curiosity weaved its way into his mind. What did Lunafreya not wish to discuss in front of other people?

Two sets of doors lead them out of the dark studio with its hot, brightly lit set. Stuffy air gave way to a rather violent breeze from a nearby window as the two stepped into the hallway. The storm had begun unleashing its rage upon the Crown City.

Luna approached the window, hands folded in front of her. The gentle gaze reflected flashes of lighting but dampened their impact somewhat. In light of her stance, her expression and gaze everything seemed tamer, even the raging nature outside.

“This is no easy life, Ignis. Give him time. I was as rebellious as Noctis is now.”

Ignis arched his eyebrows at the implication.

“Excuse my disbelief, but that is rather hard to imagine, miss.”

The words earned him a smile and Luna’s attention. She did not move an inch closer, however, choosing to remain by the window and enjoy the air pulling at her hair and clothes like a needy child. It was a relief after the hot air of the room they had just chatted in.

“Perhaps. But it makes it no less true,” her gaze lowered for a moment. “Our responsibilities are much like adult shoes. They are first given to us when we are too small to fill them out, and we are forced to wear them long before we are old enough. We learn, we grow until they fit. It is not always easy.”

“These ‘shoes’...” Ignis mused, a little baffled by the metaphor Lunafreya had chosen. “Do not sound so bad, if we are willing to grow into them. They are not footwear of gods or legendary heroes, just those of responsible men and women.”

“To young hearts those are heroic deeds no lesser than those of gods and heroes.”

Ignis looked up to find the calm eyes of Lunafreya softened with care. She and Noctis had known one another since they were children. The two had grown up around the cameras. They had shared childhoods both in front of the set lights as young professionals and in the darkness behind them as giggling children. Luna knew Noctis better than most, if not all.

“If you insist, I will reconsider. Perhaps I can be more patient with him about certain matters.”

Luna’s face softened with relief, and she inclined her head in a silent gratitude.

“Your understanding is most gracious.”

“As is your wisdom, my lady. Will we be able to enjoy it for a long time yet?”

The smile faded from Luna’s face as if carried away by the same violent gusts of wind that pulled at her skirt. She finally stepped away from the window and closer to Ignis. It took her some time for her to come up with an answer. As simple as it was, it weighed heavily upon her heart.

“I do not know. We are leaving for Altissia next month to sign the contract. I have not been made aware of how demanding it will be yet.”

As polite as the confession was, Ignis heard fear of the unknown in Luna’s voice. It was a big step for any model to go international. A big leap for one’s career, undoubtedly, and an absolutely terrifying change.

“Please know that you are always welcome to Caelum Modeling Agency, be it as a model of our own or an honored guest.”

The promise of a place to return was enough to make Luna’s eyes shimmer and glaze over with a hint of moisture that she hurried to wipe as discreetly as she could manage. Ignis pretended not to see and turned his gaze towards the storm outside.

The silence that had fallen between the two was broken as the door behind them opened. Both turned to look as Noctis stumbled out of the studio, fingers pulling irritably at the tie around his neck to loosen it. From the lack of ruckus, it appeared it was not an attempt to run away. The shoot must have been wrapped up.

With the tie unfastened and hanging from his shoulders, Noctis finally looked up to find two pairs of eyes on him. They had seen the clumsy struggle with the tie, hadn’t they? Embarrassment made him groan inwardly and straighten his back. The tie was not going back on, however. Ignis could complain as much as he wanted about it. The thing was almost as evil as that makeup brush.

Curiosity won over the embarrassment, and with his hands tucked in the pockets of the dress pants, Noctis approached the other two. It was an odd sight - his uptight manager and Luna. What in the world could they even be talking about? A faint flash of jealousy shot through Noctis as his traitor of a mind provided quite a few very visual scenarios, and he had to force the invading thoughts out for the sake of his own peace of mind.

Noctis stopped a few feet away from the two and poked the ground with the tip of his shoe. His chin was propped up in the same spiteful manner it had been earlier when struggling with Julia’s brush. Words took a couple more seconds.

“I don’t see you two talking often. What did I miss?”

“We were discussing shoes,” Ignis retorted with a poorly hidden smile.

If the answer made Noctis frown, it was Lunafreya’s chuckle that caught him off guard completely. His gaze darted to the woman who hid a sudden fit of laughter behind a perfectly manicured hand.

“...Shoes?”

“Seeing your absolute lack of interest in high fashion, I am quite certain you would find the conversation a bother. A shame, really. You would certainly benefit from a more presentable sense of style.”

Ignis’ joke earned him a glare.

“I _have_ a sense of style,” Noctis grumbled, deeply wounded by the implication. “Just because it’s not tacky like yours does not mean I got none.”

“Certainly,” Ignis flashed him a polite smile, and Noctis knew he had somehow lost that round.

The manager turned to Luna to bow and withdraw from the conversation before Noctis became even sulkier. It tended to happen whenever someone intruded upon his private chatter time with her.

“Thank you for entertaining me with the discussion, miss. I have matters to attend to so I’ll leave you in Noctis’ company.”

“It was good to see you, Ignis,” the woman bowed her head as the man said his goodbyes.

When the manager left to head back inside the studio to settle the last remaining matters before they were free to leave, the other two watched him go. Noctis noticed with a little stab of irritation that Luna followed the man with her gaze longer than he did. But whatever bitterness might have sprung to life at the thought melted to honey-like happiness as the woman turned back to him and smiled.

Luna’s name might have carried moonlight in it, but she was as warm and kind as the early summer’s sunlight. And just as fragile, he realized, seeing goosebumps that had formed on Luna’s arms. Noct pulled off his jacket in a clumsy hurry and held it out to her.

“You look cold,” he attempted to sound nonchalant. “You should wear it.”

Surprised but grateful, Luna reached for the jacket and covered her shoulders with it, hands pulling the edges of it together at her chest. Cashmere wool was much kinder than silk when it came to changes of temperature and preserving a semblance of warmth. A soft sigh of relief escaped Luna as Noctis’ warmth, seeped into the fabric, helped her own body recover.

“Thank you. This feels much better.”

At the simple honesty of hers, a smile bloomed on Noctis’ face. It was the kind that made his eyes squint with the warmth of it.

***

Prompto rolled over as a stray ray of sunlight hit his face. The warm haze of sleep still clung to him, and he - to it. He pulled the covers up to his nose and let the peace radiate through his entire form, enveloped in welcoming, perfect-

Blue eyes flew open with a start, and Prompto scrambled out of the covers to reach for the phone on the nightstand. It was far too late for the sun to be shining right in his window! Panicked heartbeat hitched when the young man caught a glimpse of the clock on his desk that mercilessly read 11:49 AM. The realization made Prompto’s stomach plummet.

Pressing the buttons on the phone proved his uneasy suspicion - the device with fingerprints all over the dark screen remained unresponsive. The battery must have died somewhen during the night, leaving him without his alarm. He knew he had to replace the thing for a while, but Prompto never realized just how bad it was.

The blond sighed and dropped the phone in his bed. No use in charging it now. He had missed the one class he had that day. With the initial shock wearing off, he glanced back at the wrinkled bed sheets. This might yet be a blessing in disguise - his chance to get some much-needed sleep. His legs were still tangled in the bedsheets, and a hint of warmth behind him remained welcoming.

Deciding that at this point it was as good of an idea as any, Prompto plopped back down in the bed and pulled the mess of covers back up to his chest. A few well-aimed kicks straightened the covers somewhat. He closed his eyes to block out the accusing rays of sunlight that sifted gently through the mess of his hair. But the light was still too bright, making Prompto turn on his side to avoid it. A slow inhale, even slower exhale. Prompto relaxed and tried to force himself to stop thinking

It didn’t work. Thanks to the previous rush of adrenaline his body was far too awake for sleeping. The blissful silence of his room was replaced by domestic noises he only now appeared to notice - radio blasting a pop song from one of the downstairs apartments, sounds of traffic from the distant but always buzzing center of Insomnia and a ceaseless ticking of the clock on his desk. Prompto cracked one eye open to glare at the clock as the main offender.

It was not just his hearing that refused to cooperate with the wonderful plan to get some sleep. There was an unpleasant feeling of emptiness in his stomach. He felt the grumble coming before it actually invaded the relative silence. Prompto groaned and curled up into a little ball.

“No sleep, huh…”

With a resigned sigh, Prompto gave up the comfort of his bed and stepped onto the dark floorboards. As soon as the covers were off, the autumn chill had him reaching for a hoodie and sweatpants to keep at least some warmth intact. The floorboards underneath his feet felt warm enough so he skipped the effort of trying to fish out his slippers from underneath the bed and padded to the kitchen.

Prompto could feel several uneven layers of black paint under his bare feet with every step, and the door creaked as he made his way into the kitchen. The place was cramped and cheap, but he had a lot of fondness for it, as one usually did for the first steps of independence taken towards the adulthood. Prompto smiled and walked the rest of the distance to the fridge with a little more spring in his step.

A quick glance behind the photograph-covered refrigerator door revealed a sorry sight, and the content feeling in his chest faded some. Nothing he could eat without any preparation. Unless-... He closed the fridge door in favor of venturing to the pantry cabinet. Prompto rummaged through some containers of simple seasonings before his fingers closed around a round surface of what felt like a plastic cup.

Bingo.

Instant noodles were a guilty pleasure so he kept those out of sight, only to be used in times when the grumbling beast in his stomach had to be sated and cared not for how long food usually took to prepare. A perfect fit for the situation. Prompto filled the electric kettle and put it to boil. As the familiar hissing of the device joined the cacophony of distant domestic sounds from other apartments, he settled on the windowsill. The cup of noodles was cradled against his stomach as if proximity alone would tame the morning hunger.

Prompto glanced outside but had to squint and turn his gaze away. Insomnia was a beauty among cities, there was no doubt. But muted tones of twilight and darkness of night suited her most. In the broad daylight, the city of endless windows and steel beams become a blinding mirror for everyone situated in the outskirts that dared glance towards the heart of it.

A soft click, followed by less and less intense bubbling and hissing of steam indicated that the water had boiled. Prompto slid off the windowsill and padded over to the table to prepare his noodles. They needed to sit for a moment with the plastic lid on them, but he shrugged and dug a fork into the cup anyway to slurp some half-soaked ramen anyway.

Considering the meal was a mobile one, he returned to the bedroom to finish it in a less blinding setting. A glimpse of the dark screen against the whiteness of his sheets caught Prompto’s eye. It was probably a good call to charge the phone for later. He put the noodles down on his desk for a moment to plug the device in and turn it back on.

It took a moment, but it came to life. Prompto was about to put the phone down when an Instagram notification popped up. He didn’t think much of it and tapped the screen to see which picture had gained a like or two. It always provided a hint of satisfaction. When Instagram loaded the picture from the previous night with the handsome stranger, he found himself absolutely floored at the number that stared back from the screen.

“127 THOUSAND likes?!”

***

It was a rare occasion when Noctis responded to the first alarm that went off. Usually, it was around third to fifth when he finally lifted his head from the pillow to check the time without blindly looking for the ‘snooze’ option. The issue had reared its head many years ago and caused Ignis to insist on Noctis setting at least ten alarms for much earlier than he actually needed to be up. While spiting the manager’s attempts to form him into a model citizen had become a hobby of sorts for Noctis, this one advice the young man had accepted with little resistance. He enjoyed taking his time to wake up.

The method was not applicable to all occasions, though. Being woken up by a person took away the magic of ignoring several alarms in favor of few more winks of sleep.

“Noct. Noct! Noctis, wake up!”

A disgruntled groan left the messy pile of blankets that a few strands of black hair peeked out from. Noctis groaned and pushed the blankets off his face. Adjusting to being awake, he blinked a few times. Ignis’ face came into focus. There was a frown. Shit. Had he overslept?

Hasty fingers reached for the phone, buried underneath his mountain of pillows. The screen read ‘5:56’. Ignis received a nearly demonic glare as Noctis dropped his phone back in bed.

“You said I had to be up at 8:30. What’s the big idea?”

“Your father wants to see you.”

The glare was gone. Noctis offered no more protests, instead scrambling out of the bed and rushing off to the bathroom to get ready. As much as spite seemed the young man’s second nature, a single mention of his father was all the motivation he needed to not only be awake but prepare himself to leave in an efficient manner.

The otherwise slow morning routine that Ignis had to sit through daily with a newspaper to pass the time was performed in a hurry. Noctis whizzed past him several times in ten minutes, leaving a mess that seemed to trail his every step in the apartment. Ignis sighed at the chaos - a wet towel had been left on the floor, underwear hung off the edge of the chair. Not even talking about the hair comb in the sink.

“Do clean up when you return.”

The answer came in form of an affirmative if a little distracted sound from the bathroom. Noctis stood in front of the mirror, struggling with buttons of a dress shirt and a tie that he had snatched out of the closet, leaving several more articles of clothing scattered on the floor as he rushed off. An irritated frown settled between Noctis’ brows as the tie refused to even out despite his best efforts. He started over, patiently this time.

Ignis sighed and went to pick the clean clothes up from the floor. The assistant put them back on the respective hangers. Somehow his charge left more mess behind him than the storm had last night in the entirety of Insomnia. Which was no small feat, considering the damage weather had caused.

“Do you know why he wants to speak to me?”

Ignis turned his head to find Noctis standing next to him, ready. He had even chosen a more formal outfit, much to Ignis’ surprise. And yet the 20-year-old seemed like a child, afraid to face an angry father. Already pale complexion seemed to have grown even whiter, and Noctis’ chest heaved from running around and anxiety alike.

The manager adjusted his glasses and allowed the expression on his face to ease into a light smile. His way of comforting the other was often an unspoken one. Noctis calmed, seeing him smile. It took a few seconds, but the young man relaxed, and his breathing settled into its usual rhythm.

“I am sorry, Noct, I do not know. I was not briefed on details, Mr. Caelum wanted to talk to you personally about the matter. I believe he wishes to discuss a possible future opportunity, but that is only my best estimation.”

That seemed to spark some excitement. Noctis stepped closer, a sudden glint in his eyes.

“Do you think he’ll send me to Altissia with Luna when she goes?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ignis avoided answering the question, knowing exactly what the answer to that was.

Miss Fleuret’s situation was a concern for Noctis. The two had been together since they first met as children - running into one another constantly, sometimes even working together had brought them close. But an opening in a design project abroad that sought a fit model had made Lunafreya’s manager coax her to pursue that instead of staying rooted in Insomnia. Which meant her and Noctis parting ways, and a heartache for everyone involved.

“We should be off, Noct.”

“Right,” the young man nodded, somewhat disappointed in the lack of an answer.

Ignis nodded for Noctis to go ahead while he checked that no dangerous appliances had been left on and that all the lights were turned off. He followed moments later. Keen green eyes watched Noctis skipping down the stairs ahead of him, anxiety seeping back into the young man’s posture. There was nothing Ignis could do to alleviate it this time.

***

To Noctis, his father’s office seemed to embody the image of the central Insomnia itself. It was sleek and elegant. The room managed to be a balanced amalgamation of black and white minimalism and ornate patterns in gold and silver. Tall windows let in the sunlight that seeped through the retreating clouds. One of the windows was open, and even this early in the morning the street was abuzz with sounds. Yet all of the noise from the outside seemed to drown out in the silence of Regis Caelum as he nodded for his son to take a seat.

“Hey...” Noctis managed a greeting.

“Good morning, Noctis. There is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

The lack of a smile on Regis' face warned the younger Caelum that their conversation would have a serious nature rather than being a father-and-son one. Noctis nodded. He tried to feel comfortable in the luxurious leather seat, but the nerves made him restless, and sitting still turned out to be a specific kind of torture.

“It has come to my attention that you’ve managed to amass quite the attention yesterday.”

When Noctis’ expression morphed into a confused frown, Regis hummed. The reaction was a little unexpected. Perhaps he was truly unaware of the situation yet? Intent to find out for sure, Regis turned the tablet in front of him towards his son and pushed it across the glass table. The brightly lit screen displayed an Instagram post that had gathered over 100 thousand likes.

Noctis’ gut wrenched with a bitter sense of betrayal and anger. Only a few people would see it, huh? That was what the weird stranger had promised him. He had trusted those words like a fool. And now there the damn picture sat with thousands of likes and hundreds of comments, no doubt some sort of self-advertising crap, using his face. Noctis pursed his lips and looked away from the screen, refusing to give it any more of his attention than necessary.

“Am I right to assume you know what this is?” Regis questioned, reaching out to pull the tablet back in front of himself.

“This weird guy took a picture of me yesterday. Said he wanted to put it on his Instagram and not that many people would see it so I let him. Guess that was all bullshit.”

Regis’ face became an unreadable mask as he listened. He wasn’t unsettled because of the language but rather the cynicism that drenched his son’s speech. When had the childish spite turned into something this wounded and venomous? Regis took a moment to reconsider his proposal for a moment. If Noctis was going to be disagreeable about this, it only proved Ignis’ point about how Noctis’ own unsocial nature placed unnecessary hurdles in his way to success. The thought steeled Regis' decision, made long before his son crossed the doorstep of his office that morning. He straightened his back and spoke.

“I would like to hire this man to work for us and help us create you an appropriate social image.”

“Huh?!”

“Let me explain,” Regis lifted his hand a few inches from the table to pacify the arising argument before it had the chance to flare up. “I have been informed that while you are talented, you are not as sociable and approachable as a man in your line of work should be.”

“What? Ignis told you that?”

“He has brought his concerns about you to my attention, yes. But do not think he is the only one who worries about your well-being, Noctis, even if it might not seem like it sometimes.”

“It’s not what I meant...” the resistance in Noctis’ voice deflated, replaced by guilt.

If this was Ignis’ idea, he’d argue as it was likely just nagging about something that didn’t matter. Father was different. His decisions, his schedule, his everything was always made with Noctis in mind. Even on the busiest of weeks, Regis did his best to schedule some time to spend with his son. While playing golf or art gallery visits were hardly the type of things the younger Caelum enjoyed, it was his father’s company that he cared about, and his opinion - that Noctis respected.

“If you think we should… I guess it’s okay.”

“Do not worry, the research on this mystery photographer of yours is being carried out as we speak. We are contacting him as soon as we find out who he is and if he’s suited for the position. You will not have to work with a man whose intentions are not in your and company’s best interests.”

The assurance drew a smile on Noctis’ face. Father worried even more than Ignis, didn’t he?

“Okay.”

The clouds parted, and warm rays of sunlight entered the office. They reflected off the gold trim of the black desk and its glass surface. The storm had left Insomnia.

***

The morning had gone better than Noctis dared to expect the moment Ignis woke him up and announced the reason. But even the positive change was not enough to ease the slight irritation at being awake earlier than he was meant to. Noctis started to feel the lack of sleep making him sluggish. His expression soured, and he began dragging his feet.

Ignis started to pay attention when his charge took on a pace of a petulant child. The discontent radiating off Noctis was expected, but there was time to cure it yet. The manager made the decision to veer off the path of productivity for Noctis’ sake. At least for the next few of hours until the shoot. Which, to Noctis’ surprise and delight, included his own choice of breakfast with no limitations to calories - a truly rare permission. With no hesitation in the matter, Noctis named Crow’s Nest as his desired destination for breakfast.

It turned out that other than the otherwise forbidden greasy food, there was another source of entertainment in visiting Crow’s Nest - watching Ignis struggle to find a somewhat healthy meal among the rather limited options. Noctis lost interest, however, when the man finally settled with a salmon and joined Noctis at the table. Especially when it turned out that salmon, apparently, ‘wasn’t as bad as he expected’. Where was the fun in that? Ignis was much more fun and human when he lost a notch of his perfect composure. Guess this was not the day for that, though.

Noctis pulled his smartphone from his pocket and drowned out the world around him with the help of King’s Knight, accompanied by an occasional crunch of a salty fry or two between his teeth. The game kept him occupied for the next hour, and Ignis made no complaints. Noctis glanced up to see the reason when the silence dragged on. It seemed the other was busy reading news articles in his own phone.

That was when a text message made the phone in Noctis’ hands buzz. He jumped at the tickle of the vibration and gave the offending device a quick frown before opening the message. It was from his father, informing him that they had decided to hire the Instagram guy and that Noctis was supposed to meet him on Monday. The message only listed the necessary details and remained as short as humanly possible. Dad didn’t like texting.

Another message followed the first one - a link to a document. Noctis tapped the link and watched his phone load a text document. It contained some basic details about the photographer in the form of a small briefing - no doubt, for Noctis to read and prepare. This kind of a job he usually left to Ignis, the man was able to cram the relevant information in his head about ten minutes before whatever meetings Noctis had to attend. With a lot of grumbling about the fact, no doubt.

This time around there would be no need for grumbling. Noctis himself read the entirety of the briefing, as attentive as he was only when he deemed something either interesting or important. The keen blue eyes were looking for anything suspicious to confirm his doubts that the stranger was after some sort of self-advertising.  

The scrawny photographer, who was apparently named Prompto Argentum, seemed incredibly boring - the same age as Noctis, a college student, working all kinds of odd jobs, photography was not even his field of study. But there was no way dad would hire him if he was terrible at photography so that must have been one thing that the otherwise average guy was good at. Well, that one picture he took of Noctis _was_ good, fine. ...And there was a link to his Instagram added if he wanted to see for himself.

Noctis pondered for a moment before tapping the link. Curiosity had gotten the best of him.

Once Noctis got past the fact that the first picture was of himself, the page unfurled into its true form. The collection of pictures seemed as much of an anxious mess as the stranger himself had been. Landscapes in bright, summery colors clashed with black and white shots of industrial environments. Noctis leaned in as he scrolled, loading more and more pictures, drawn in more by every single one. Shots of animals, more landscapes, street photographs of people and somewhere in the mixture - selfies of Prompto’s own bright grin. Noctis rolled his eyes at those.

“Noct, we should go. You have to get ready soon,” Ignis’ voice rang the reality back.

He was not done. With that thought in mind and before he could second-guess himself, Noctis pressed ‘follow’ and closed Instagram. He could continue later. The phone returned to his pocket, Noctis looked up at the manager who stood from his seat, ready to leave.

“Will there be makeup involved?” Noctis asked as too stood up.

He was faintly hopeful to hear a ‘no’ despite past experience of that never being the answer to that particular question. Everyone needed their face perfected before standing in front of the cameras.

“Of course.”

Noctis nodded and followed Ignis out the door. Julia had been booked for the entire month to work with models in the main studio. Which meant - it was time for round two with the makeup brush.


	3. Good Hair and Cargo Pants

Couple strands of hair that had escaped the hair gel fluttered in Prompto’s field of vision. A quick brush of his hand got those back in place again, and he looked forward. Step one: done.

Prompto really wished the second one would be as easy as getting his hair in order. He was facing a button next to the gate that blocked his path - a button he needed to eventually press and begin the most stressful morning of his entire life. Prompto’s single consolation was the fact that he had at least a minute for a mental breakdown before he had to announce his arrival.

He took a deep breath. The world around seemed to flicker back into existence from the fog of anxiety, and he felt a chill go up his spine. Even the warm, padded suit that Prompto had ironed out to the best of his ability did little to save him from the cool wind. A passing breeze pinched the freckle-covered cheeks - the last bits of Insomnia’s summer had melted away, and the year leaned towards its darkest, coldest end once again.

The wind whipping his face had calmed Prompto’s thoughts just enough for him to finally lift his hand. But it froze there, a shaky index finger hovering over the intercom button, unable to find the courage. Just a moment later the hesitant hand dropped at his side again. He looked stupid - an immature boy trying to appear professional and collected. The red cheeks and shaking hands gave away whatever pretenses the outfit gave him. There was also no telling if he could even keep his voice from breaking when he would finally open his mouth.

_...It wasn’t too late to turn back._

The passing thought startled Prompto into action - fingers curled into a fist. He had not spent the weekend writing countless pro and con lists and agonizing over the levity of the choice for nothing. He _wanted_ this. Light brows furrowed in determination, and Prompto reached for the button. He pressed it before he had the chance to second guess himself again.

Prompto was rewarded with a faint click of the button and then - the same click when he released it. Other than that nothing happened. There was no response, and Prompto felt a heavy weight upon his shoulders, at a loss what to do next.

“Told you we need to get the intercom fixed,” a faintly familiar voice muttered somewhere behind him, just loud enough to make Prompto’s breath catch with surprise.

“I assure you, technicians have been contacted. It seems several electrical network systems have malfunctioned because of the storm, and it might take a couple of days until they get to ours.”

Prompto turned towards the approaching voices, only able to shake his initial shock in gradual steps. He knew those two voices and, the chances were - the two knew who he was as well. The man walking half a step ahead of the other was wearing thin-framed glasses and a serious expression to match the overall image. His accent was unmistakable - he had to be the one that called early that same morning just to confirm that Prompto planned to arrive to the meeting. Which meant this was… The manager, Scientia.

Behind the perfectly collected man traipsed the reason Prompto was here in the first place. With hands stuffed in pockets of black cargo pants, the young man was hardly the image of elegance Prompto recalled, instead seeming more like a moody teenager. There was also the comical contrast between the comfortable clothes and perfectly groomed hair.

When the manager halted in front of him, Prompto hurried to bow for a greeting. He did his best to keep his cool even as the gears in his head were spinning out of control with sheer nervousness.

“Good morning, I was invited here for the meeting.”

“Prompto, I assume? Yes, we did talk this morning,” the manager echoed Prompto’s tone with a hint of refinement to it.

“Yes, sir! I-it’s nice to meet you!”

Nothing was said, but Prompto felt the sharp gaze evaluate every inch of him and pierce deep beneath the surface as if to coax whatever talent he had out for judging. Suddenly the lack of polish to his shoes and shoulders of the suit jacket being too wide felt like unforgivable flaws. Prompto forced himself to stand still and avoid drawing attention to the imperfections, but the gaze of bespectacled man did slide along both the shoulders and feet. He noticed. Of course he did. All Prompto could do was grit his teeth and keep his gaze up.

He was supposed to be here for his photography skill, not as a model. The thought was even more reassuring when he sneaked another glance of the young man behind the manager. If even models could wear what they pleased, maybe he had a chance yet? Then again, if he had understood right, the other was a son of Caelum Modeling Agency’s CEO. An exception then.

The inspection of Prompto’s appearance took no more than a second even though it felt much closer to a lifetime. But even lifetimes came to an end - the manager flashed a polite smile and inclined his head to return the greeting.

“It is nice to meet you in person as well, Prompto,” the man glanced behind his back to see if Good-Hair-And-Cargo-Pants had any wish to join the proper introductions (he didn’t). “Come along, Prompto. We are headed to the same meeting.”

The manager retrieved an access keycard. Rich gold letters curved on the sleek back - ‘CMA staff’. It appeared that storm had done no harm to the gate itself. A cheerful digital tone played, and it opened, allowing the three entrance to the property.

There was lush, meticulously trimmed shrubbery on both sides of the driveway. The road itself was clean of sand and rocks and perfectly smooth. There was a fountain near the entrance - a beautiful statue of a woman holding a bowl over her head in the center of rippling water. The angle of light made the entire fountain glisten like molten silver.

With his attention stolen entirely by the fountain and the possibilities of a wonderful shot it would make for, Prompto did not notice a pair of blue eyes focusing their gaze on him with the same kind of curiosity as he devoted to the view.

Noctis eyed Prompto, taking the time to see what had made Ignis do a double take earlier. It had to be the suit. The ill fit stood out like a sore thumb - the pants were too long, and the jacket - too wide. A size smaller, and he’d look great. Blue was a nice color on him. And then there was the childish joy on his face - just as attractive of a trait.

A bitter thought crossed Noctis’ mind, and he averted his gaze. The industry would destroy this guy, it destroyed everyone. His own joy was gone, Ignis was overburdened with duties, and father was growing prematurely grey because of stress and responsibility. He’d heard a rumor about Luna’s frequent clinic visits too. No doubt, the new addition to the agency was bound to face a similar fate, crushed in some manner eventually.

If Ignis was thinking something similar, it did not show. The man adjusted his glasses with a casual gesture and took the lead towards the double door that sat on top of black marble steps. He opened the door and stepped inside, followed by the young model that used the already open gap to slip inside without lifting a finger. Prompto was last in the procession and closed the door behind them.

The warmth of indoors greeted the three men, replacing a breath of autumn that hung in the air after the storm. The pleasant change of atmosphere made Prompto loosen up a little, and he took a look around.

The indoor lighting made spacious, light rooms appear inviting. Despite the distinct sense of professionalism every finely picked detail of the interior seemed to exude, it felt like a comfortable space. Perhaps the music playing from somewhere deeper within the agency helped - the easy rhythm of pop eased Prompto’s remaining worries.

There was a middle-aged woman working at the reception desk. She greeted them upon their approach - Ignis and Noctis by their names. However, she seemed to hesitate when it came to Prompto, a crease settling in her brows. Before the woman could ask for his name, Ignis leaned in and explained the situation. With the manager’s voice lowered it was hard to make out what exactly he said so Prompto used the time to straighten out his suit.

He felt a pair of eyes on him this time and turned his head. Prompto caught the model looking at him, a deep-seated frown on his face. Whatever effect the music and warmth had provided was gone, and his knees felt like jelly.

“What's- What is it?” Prompto stammered out a question.

He never got an answer - the young man turned his head the other way. Prompto felt his stomach plummet. This was hardly a good start. Was he still upset about the Instagram thing? Maybe the guy just didn’t like him? Or, worse, didn’t like his photography?!

Ignis’ voice interrupted the downward spiral of Prompto’s confidence before it could get out of control, “Mr. Caelum is on his way. The meeting will start shortly.”

Prompto nodded and tried to keep up with Ignis when he turned towards an elevator. The manager had surprisingly fast steps which made Prompto hurry along. He didn’t dare to look in the direction of CEO’s son even as he felt the prodding gaze upon him once. The dude didn’t even know him and already hated him. He didn’t want to make the situation worse.

The true punch to the gut was the following ride in the elevator, though. As the door closed, encasing him, the manager and the model in the same small space, Prompto realized just how terrible it was to be cramped together his own anxieties and a gaze that only fueled them further. ...Was it too late to turn back? He shuffled on spot, feeling like it was getting harder to breathe.

“You look weird,” Noctis’ sudden comment stabbed.

Prompto’s gaze shot up, expecting something worse than a frown. But the previous expression was gone from the model’s face, and he didn’t seem nearly as scary as before. Instead, he appeared amused.

“You asked what was it. It’s your suit. You look weird.”

Ignis turned his attention to his charge, obviously disappointed by his poor tact. He could close his eyes to some of Noctis’ temper issues, but this was about pushing the boundaries. The only thing that kept Ignis silent was the model stuffing his hands deep in the pockets of his pants. Noctis’ awkwardness often served as a clear indication that he was trying to figure out how to say something complicated.

It took a moment, but he got there.

“When you start working, don’t wear stuffy clothes like that unless there’s an important meeting and you have to. You’re supposed to be comfortable,” Noctis spoke with clumsy hospitality to his tone and expression alike.

The words imparted Prompto with warm ease. He couldn’t help a sheepish laughter, hand scratching the back of his head. He moved to shuffle a little closer to Noctis. Guess the guy wasn’t all that scary, simply as painfully awkward as himself.

“Will do.”

The elevator came to a halt mere moments later, and the door slid open to reveal a pristine hallway ahead. There was no music to be heard on this floor, just muffled chatter and an occasional sound from rooms on either side of the hallway. Plenty of such rooms hid behind heavy, dark wood doors. Prompto counted at least a dozen.

Ignis guided the younger two down the hallway. Noctis followed, his gaze bored while Prompto couldn’t help but let his attention flicker from one object to another. What held the photographer’s interest the longest was lighting fixtures. They were not constituted of simple lamps but instead - odd, silver-lined installations in ceiling itself. The modernity seemed natural for a building located in Insomnia’s mechanical heart.

There were abstract paintings in bright, bold colors along the walls too, all framed in obsidian black frames. But what caught Prompto’s eye was the fact that there were a few photographs as well - all in the same saturated colors. Striking, powerful images. If it was not for the hurry the long strides of the manager encouraged, he’d love to linger and take a better look. Maybe on the way back.

Prompto turned his attention forward just in time to avoid a near collision with Ignis’ back. He jumped back a step, realizing the other had stopped to unlock the door to their right. The same kind of dark, heavy door. Only this one awaited with silence instead of muffled conversation like some of the others did.

...So this was it? Prompto swallowed and held on to the shoulder strap of his bag as he followed the manager into the room side by side with Noctis.

They were quite a sight. One - all nerves, the other - looking like he was about to fall asleep.

The meeting room had been cleared out for the occasion. A ridiculously large space encased a single desk and several chairs arranged around it - four on one side, one - on the other. There were no paintings, no potted plants. It felt like a waste of space when the room could easily fit a conference table with at least twenty seats arranged around it. Prompto could imagine it - fashionable and important people seated around a mahogany table, discussing the future of the industry, of-

Ignis’ voice interrupted his daydreaming.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Prompto? Mr. Caelum and his legal consultant will be here shortly, and we’ll be able to proceed with discussing your future employment.”

Prompto felt the blood drain from his face as he offered a weak nod. Sure, this was a big company and the single most important opportunity he would likely ever get. But… He had to face a lawyer too? He hadn’t brought one with him, and his future was still in these very own shaking hands, just like it had been all weekend.

Prompto had considered combining the job with his studies but quickly came to a realization that there was no way he’d be able to keep up with both. Even the odd side-jobs left him more reminiscent of a zombie than a human, and studying took whatever was left of his energy. There was also no guarantee that Caelum Modelling Agency would even consider hiring him part-time. A decision had to be made in favor of either a stable path in life with an economics degree under his belt or giving a shot to a chance and pursuing his passion. The levity of either side of the scales of this decision terrified Prompto.

Heart had won in the end, and he contacted his college about taking a term off - a temporary solution, but a safer one in case if dreams crashed and burned. For now, this was the path he was choosing, but he had a way back, something to fall back on. If the cruelty of the adult world was to be trusted, the likelihood of having to crawl back to his safe path and face the consequences along with the disapproval of his adoptive parents was a high one. Especially considering he had told them none of this.

Prompto forced the nagging thoughts out of his mind for the time being and took the single seat facing all the others. The leather of the chair gave slightly to accommodate him - still somewhat cool even through the warm layer of dress pants, but warming rapidly as Prompto shuffled to make himself comfortable.

The other two also took a seat. Noctis - at the end of the long table and Ignis - next to him. While the model didn’t seem bothered to do anything other than wait, the manager got a neatly bound document from his briefcase and set it on the desk in front of him. It reminded Prompto about his own bag.

He undid the metal clasps and reached in the bag to pull out a portfolio he had prepared during the weekend. It had taken the last of his time and money and was a little rough around the edges but definitely presentable. Nervous fingers clasped the hard covers to stop Prompto’s hands from shaking.

The wait for the remaining two participants of the meeting began. Ignis spent the time by reviewing the information in his document while the young man next to him played some mobile game. At least that is what Prompto guessed by the look of concentration on his face and the pattern of tapping. The photographer himself chose to wait in silence. Despite the different approaches, however, all three jumped a little as the door opened with a soft click when they least expected it.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” a voice - quiet but confident - greeted.

Both Noctis and Ignis responded with ‘good morning’s of their own. Noctis stashed away his phone in a blink of an eye. Feeling that he was late on the whole greeting thing, Prompto hurried to turn and open his mouth as two sets of footsteps approached.

There was no need.

“You must be Prompto. It is my pleasure to meet such a talented young photographer,” a bearded, well-dressed man stopped by Prompto’s seat and held out his hand.

Prompto reached up to shake it. Despite the CEO’s almost regal composure, the man’s eyes held a degree of warmth. It finally felt like the room had enough air for breathing, and Prompto relaxed. He offered Regis a smile in return as well.

“Thank you, Mr. Caelum. It is an honor to meet you.”

“Let us get started, shall we?”

Prompto gripped the sides of his portfolio and nodded.

***

No mercy was offered to Prompto’s sanity that day. As if surviving a two-hour meeting about his qualifications and future responsibilities was not enough, the CEO had decided to test him. The newly hired photographer was ushered off on his first task right away - shooting a ‘fitting photograph for Noctis’ newly created Instagram page’. That was about the time Prompto lost touch with reality, and Ignis had to physically push him all the way out of the building to the car.

Prompto felt lightheaded. He held on to the shoulder strap of his bag to remind himself that this was real life. He did not know how, but he had survived. Better than that, actually. He had a job and a salary that made him slightly weak in the knees with utter disbelief. People were paid that much to take pictures?!

Ignis made sure Prompto got safely in and out of the elevator and down the stairs at the entrance. He had expected a certain degree of surprise, considering the young man’s background and how different all of this must have seemed. This was a little more than he had anticipated, and Ignis found himself a little worried. Perhaps there was a need to reschedule the very first task for a day or two if the young man was this shaken.

Noctis didn’t share the same worries. The model walked next to Ignis, watching with keen amusement and curiosity. This was somehow more fun than King’s Knight. And Prompto had seen nothing yet. Noctis couldn’t wait for them to travel somewhere for a shoot, that was certainly going to blow the guy’s mind. Insomnia, as impressive as it was, remained the mere prologue of the beauty the world had to offer.

They reached the black Rolls-Royce that was left parked outside the metal gate. Ignis unlocked it and opened the back door for Prompto who proceeded to slump in the leather seat. One final glance assured the manager that his new charge was starting to recover. The boy’s hands were still white-knuckled from the tight grip on his bag, but there was some awareness as he looked around, inspecting the interior. It seemed like Prompto was going to be fine. Good. Ignis closed the door and headed for the driver’s seat.

When the world around him started to regain its clarity once more Prompto realized that he was not sitting in a car, but an automotive wonder. The leather of the seats was black as midnight and soft. The material didn’t have any cheap stiffness to it at all - it felt like sitting in a luxurious cloud. Meanwhile, his reflection in the shiny metallic details was distorted merely by the shape of the surface but otherwise - impeccable. And there were ‘stars’. Little lights above their heads lit up the ceiling, and Prompto gawked in pure awe.

He barely noticed the pressure of the seat changing as Noctis moved to take a seat next to him. What brought Prompto back to the current moment was a worried glance he caught in the reflection of the rearview mirror - Ignis.

When their gazes met the manager turned around as much as his seatbelt allowed.

“Prompto, are you feeling better?”.

“Huh?” a pair of little clouded blue eyes finally focused on the manager. “Oh, yeah! Sorry! That was just a lot to take in. Just, uh… Leave a window or something open, please?”  
  
“Certainly.”

Prompto moved to sit up straighter and put on a seatbelt to dispel any suspicion about his state. He was fine! Mostly. Dealing with people in positions of authority and documents in language that was surely meant to confuse the reader was a terrifying experience. Despite all odds, though, he had managed to make sense of the contract and sign it.

As the key turned in the ignition and car came alive with a soft hum of the engine Prompto felt it upon himself again - a gaze, prodding him. A quick check of the rearview mirror assured it was not Ignis this time, man had his eyes the road. That left only one suspect. Prompto turned his head to look at Noctis.

For a moment their eyes met. Whatever judgment he had seen before in the other’s face was gone, replaced by simple curiosity. It seemed Noctis was quite aware of that too. He dropped the curious gaze to his smartphone, once more pulled out from his pocket. The white light from it cast harsh shadows along the young man’s face as he shuffled into a more comfortable position with his nose almost buried in the screen.

Prompto bit back a snicker.

“You know, your first picture should just be you and your phone. A match truly made in heaven~” 

As expected, Ignis simply raised an eyebrow and didn’t deem Prompto’s joke of a suggestion worth an answer at all. It was clear that a serious picture was expected. Surely, Prompto understood that as well?

Noctis smirked, “I’m in. If you can convince Specs.”

Prompto watched as the other shuffled into a different position. He burst into a fit of laughter at the sight of Noctis posing with his phone, holding it like a newborn. Prompto fished the camera out of his bag and took a quick photo before the young man next to him could have the chance to get embarrassed.

“There. That’s the one! We can wrap it up now and go home!”

“Absolutely not!”

The protest from the front seat was completely ignored, as were the following concerns when Noctis unbuckled his seatbelt to slide across the seat, closer to Prompto. A childlike interest had softened the model's features.

“Let me see.”

A little taken aback by the sudden closeness, Prompto held out his camera - a motion that was more questioning than sure in its intent. Noctis shook his head in turn.

“Just _show_ me,” his interest was accompanied by impatience the second time around.

“Okay.”

Prompto tilted the camera a little more towards Noctis so he could see the screen better. A tap on a little round button on the side of the camera brought up the most recently taken picture. Noctis angled his head and watched the image appear.

He had definitely seen more flattering shots of himself in the past. But never one so goofy. Well, with the exception of some silly selfies that never made it out of safety and privacy of his phone’s gallery. While it was odd to see himself cradling a phone to his chest with an awkward smile on his face, the change was a pleasant one, somehow.

Noctis gave a nod of approval, but his gaze never left the screen. He wondered what other pictures were stored within the device. An entire weekend’s worth of scrolling through Prompto’s Instagram had sparked a certain interest.

It had started as a suspicious research, looking for clues of what the other was after. But then the photos drew Noctis in - bright, lively colors clashed with muted tones or deep, dark ones. The contrast mesmerized, and the angles were creative in a way fashion photography never was. Pieces of time - captured and bound to remain ever unchanged in their beauty. Noctis had felt a little bit of jealousy, considering his own talent for fishing was not nearly as impressive to a casual glance.

And now within the range of his grasp was the very camera that had likely been used to take those shots, as was the person that took them - living, breathing and radiating a surprising amount of body heat. Noctis felt the warmth lull his tired limbs closer towards a nap with every smooth yard they drove. Even the drowsiness could barely dampen his curiosity, however. Noctis stretched out and pointed at the dimming display on the camera with his chin.

“Do you have any others I can see?”

“Oh! Sure!” the interest made Prompto perk up and scoot closer with much more determination than before as he showed off another photo. “Okay, so this one I took last week in my favorite coffee place-”

“You like coffee?”

“Yeah!”

“I don’t really get people who like coffee. Is it really that good?” Noctis did not sound convinced.

The Rolls-Royce halted at a red light, and a careful gaze from the driver’s seat watched Noctis and Prompto in the backseat. Ignis felt a deep-seated concern for Noctis and his blunt ignorance of hazards related to not putting on a seatbelt on. He swallowed an objection, however. This once he would allow it. The conversation was far too important to be risked. They both needed to get along with their new coworker, especially Noctis.

But there was something else to it too. This was a pleasant change from the usual cool distance that young Caelum kept from others his age. Prompto seemed to be the first person in years Noctis had approached himself. Even if his motivation was very clearly somewhat selfish curiosity, the lively chatter and increasingly animated hand gestures seemed promising about further social prospects.

Ignis pursed his lips, but the corners curved upwards regardless. Odd sense of accomplishment filled him. This was for Noctis’ own good, and hopefully - young Prompto’s as well.

Sadly, the socialization would have to be cut short for the time being. They moved on when the light changed, and simple brick walls overtook those of fine steel. They had reached Insomnia’s downtown. The location for the shoot had been decided in the meeting with Regis who suggested a more lived-in setting as it would seem more down-to-earth than pristine walls of central regions.

And a well lived-in place it was indeed. The smooth ride turned a notch bumpier as the streets narrowed and carefully maintained roads gave way to ones left to their own devices. Fences separating the houses were lower, often more transparent. Foliage crawling up along gates and walls alike and chipping paint added warmth and wear of age to the neighborhood.

Ignis parked the vehicle in a rather empty parking lot. The boys in the backseat didn’t even seem to notice, too busy looking at the photos and talking over one another.

“We’ve arrived,” the manager cut the chatter short.

The light from the camera that had illuminated the faces of both young men disappeared at a click of a button. Prompto was the first one to react and rushed to unbuckle his seatbelt with one hand while the other placed camera back in the safety of his bag. Ignis observed as the young man stepped out of the car with his precious equipment carefully nestled against his thigh.

With Prompto out of the car, the watchful gaze shifted to Noctis who stared back. Silence instead of a grunt of acknowledgment was never a good sign when it came to Noctis. And sure enough, Ignis caught a quickly souring expression on his face as Noctis pushed himself across the seat towards the door left open by Prompto. That very same door was slammed shut.

Ignis pinched his nose and pulled the key from the ignition. Yet another test of his patience and skill to get Noctis to cooperate and perform adequately despite his quickly changing moods.

***

Prompto lowered the camera after inspecting the ten new shots they had taken with Noctis sitting in front of a bold if a little crude graffiti. Two pairs of eyes focused on the photographer, a dimming sense of hope in both. They had been out here for two hours, and all the photographs turned out too stiff or posed to serve their purpose. Everyone was getting tired and irritated.

There was nothing Prompto wanted more than to assure the other two that they had finally gotten the perfect shot, that they could wrap it up and head back. It was not the case, though, and he had to shake his head.

Disappointment hung in the air - heavy and dark.

The manager’s voice cut the tension, “Noctis, you need to relax if we are going to make this work.”

“Easy to speak when you don’t do anything and just make demands,” the model snarled back, crossing his arms.

It was not the first spat that morning, and every new one seemed to gradually make things worse. The tensions rose, and everyone was either walking on eggshells or stomping on them carelessly. Prompto took a look around, trying to ease his worries.

The sunlight peeked through grey, round clouds. It made puddles shine like gold when the angle was just right. The sound of traffic from a somewhat busy road and chirping of a sparrow were the only sounds to interrupt the lazy silence of a late morning. There was a comfort to be found in the peace of downtown. If only he could take a picture of that instead...

They were failing their task of getting a good shot so far, and Prompto’s time to leave a good impression was running out. His teeth gnawed on the chapped bottom lip. It didn’t matter if the model was hard to work with and if his manager - too demanding. The job was his responsibility alone. The other two were just trying to help with it despite their frustrations.

Then… He couldn’t give in to his own either. Prompto turned back to Noctis.

“Let’s try with the puddles,” he pointed a spot near a charmingly rounded one. “You could stand there so we can get your shoes and reflection in the puddle in the shot. Maybe squat down? Touch the water? That might look cool.”

Noctis gave a short, indifferent nod and moved to where he was expected to be. Even with all the rebellion behind his words, he still listened to a photographer’s directions without a single protest. Prompto wasn’t sure if he was honored or heartbroken by that.

Noctis didn’t argue with Prompto like he did with Ignis, he didn’t spite like he did with Julia. Photography was familiar. Listen, pose, hold - breath and pose alike. Noctis leaned over to touch the water at his feet as directed and inhaled to hold the pose. Up close the puddle did not gleam gold, it seemed grey, murky. He looked down into the shallow depths of it and waited until a three-part shutter sound came before he breathed again.

Prompto sighed. Even bathed in the golden sunlight of the shot, Noctis appeared empty. The composition was good, the color was good, but the shot? Passable at best. Like those they had taken before. Worried, intent blue eyes scanned the picture, looking for its flaws. There had to be a common thread.

With the action coming to an abrupt halt again, Ignis was the one to step in. The man adjusted his glasses and temper alike. The three of them were in a situation that called for understanding before it could degrade further. He hoped adopting a more amicable tone would set an example for the other two as well.

“Let us take a break. Ten minutes.”

“And then what? Back at it for two more hours? Four? Until midnight, maybe?”

“Noctis, please. You have other commitments today as well. I believe we can devote thirty more minutes to this before we must head back.”

Prompto’s voice joined the conversation, “And what if we don’t get a shot in thirty minutes?”

For a moment there was silence. The manager adjusted his glasses, unsure how to answer. He offered an understanding smile, however. Prompto had been through a lot that day. Worrying him further would do no good.

“Then we will report about the less than ideal circumstances and try another approach in the evening. If you are free, Prompto?”

“Yeah! For sure. Ten minutes then?”

The chipper smile Prompto mustered in response to Ignis’ plan B felt about as painfully fake as it was. He understood that the answer hid not in the words that the manager had chosen to pronounce but those that he did not. Results were expected. The excuses didn’t matter if the situation stayed the same - a failure to deliver the picture. Talk about a bad start...

Prompto frowned and tucked his camera back in the bag. His hand rubbed the muscles in his arm. The camera was not a heavy device on its own if one had to hold it for a minute or two. But combined with a heavy lens and the necessity to be held for extended periods of time, the camera felt much closer to a brick than the advanced technological accomplishment it was.

Prompto breathed in as he let his feet carry him down the road. He walked past the parking lot where their black Rolls-Royce was slowly heating up in the sun. Every step he made resounded with a wet, soft tap against the patchy asphalt. The fresh smell of rain that hung in the air still was beginning to fade out. The storm would soon turn into a mere memory and then fade completely like the petrichor it had swept Insomnia with.

What Prompto didn’t expect were footsteps following him. And yet there they echoed with the same wet sound. The pace was too quick for the footsteps to belong to either Noctis or Ignis. Prompto turned to see who rushed his way and realized he had been wrong.

Noctis caught up in a little embarrassing half-run. When he stopped next to Prompto he didn’t have any good explanation for why he was there instead of anywhere else. The model bristled, tucked his hands in the pockets of the black cargo pants and nodded forward.

“Let’s go.”  
  
“...Okay.”

It took a few strides for them to match their paces. Where Prompto’s steps were shorter, bouncier, Noctis took long and slow strides. It was Noctis’ speed that they eventually adjusted to. Silently. Awkwardly.

Prompto looked up at the man walking next to him. The constant frown on his face that had been present every moment they were not taking pictures seemed to have finally eased off his face. Mostly. A little crinkle still remained between the dark brows. Prompto decided that it was safe enough to speak regardless.

“Didn’t soak your boots, standing in the puddle? You could have stood by it, not inside.”

“It’s fine. The water didn’t get in.”

“...Ah. Gotcha.”

Noctis turned his head to look at Prompto when the other fell silent sooner than he had expected him to. This was not like their chatter back in the car, Prompto seemed much more nervous now. Was that because of him and Ignis arguing? It wasn’t that big of a deal! Noctis almost wanted to argue out loud about it. He opened his mouth to speak when Prompto ran into him. It was a light bump, followed by an apology, and they walked on in silence again.

...So not just the arguing. Something else seemed to be on his mind. Noctis wished he could help. A compliment might do well, Prompto seemed like he could use one. But compliments were also complicated. Noctis could never find the right words to praise anyone. Was it worth risking it?

Noctis swallowed his unwillingness and bumped into the other’s shoulder with his own, startling him back to reality when Prompto was just about drifting away again. He gave the photographer a slight smile.

“You’ll get it. I think the one with the puddle was pretty good.”

“You saw it?” surprise rang in Prompto’s voice.  
  
When the other’s attention was on him again Noctis averted his gaze, feeling heat climbing to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It would have been easier to speak up if Prompto was not paying _that_ much attention. Now he was at a loss what to do. Did he need to keep the compliments coming? Well, he could try, poorly.

“I peeked when you weren’t paying attention,” he admitted. “It looked good. The, uh- One before, with the graffiti, I thought it was cool too.”

The made Prompto laugh - a clear, pleasant sound. He exhaled, and the tension left the slim shoulders. Compliments worked, it seemed. Prompto’s feet veered him closer to Noctis again, this time intentionally, and he bumped into the model’s side.

“Thanks. We have half an hour more, I think we can do it!”

After that conversation walking was easier, and their pace increased. Now it was Noctis matching up his footsteps to Prompto’s. He did so without complaining. The company was worth a little effort.

Noctis jumped when an elbow suddenly dug into his ribs. He had not expected the playful bumping of their shoulders to go further but the bony elbow in his side suggested otherwise. Though, there also seemed to be a reason for the action as the other pointed forward, a childish excitement in his gaze.

“A cat,” he announced in an excited whisper.

Following Prompto’s outstretched finger, Noctis looked that way to find a Siamese. The cat was cleaning up its ruffled fur in front of a black metal gate that led into someone’s yard. It was hard to know for certain, but the cat seemed to be purebred, having the sleek outline befitting its breed. But its coat was covered in dust in uneven patches. The Siamese did not seem to care about living up to the elegance of its lineage in the least.

That made Noctis smile. He always knew he liked cats for a reason.

While the model was ready to move on with just a look, Prompto was a lot more dedicated to pursuing the situation. He split off from the other and made a slow advance to the cat, cooing something of a greeting.

“Here, kitty, kitty- Ah, wait!”

The cat had decided its limits before the leering human could reach it and sprinted away from Prompto. It did not go far, just out of his reach. Tail swished from side to side, ears swiveling around before the cat settled. It did not sit back down, though, and kept an eye on Prompto.

Noctis couldn’t help himself and spoke up, “You’re doing it wrong.”

“But I already went slow? People say it’s better to go slow.”  
  
“That’s not enough, you know. ...Let me try.”

Prompto watched the model kneel down on the road. Noctis lowered his frame and held out his hand towards the cat. Then came the soft tutting noises, beckoning the creature closer. Tutting and waiting as the cat watched and decided what it wanted to do about the situation. Eventually, the patience seemed to be rewarded as curiosity won over cautiousness in the Siamese, and it carefully sauntered over to sniff Noctis’ fingertips.

The model smiled, his frown finally disappearing completely. He angled his wrist the other way to run those same fingertips through the dusty, soft fur. The cat was cautious but allowed the hand to pet it when it knew just the right way to scratch behind the ears.

“There. That’s how you get it to-”

Three-part shutter sound.

Noctis looked up, surprise replacing his smile. But instead of a cold feeling in his chest he would have expected at the sudden return of the camera without a warning, what bloomed was a confusion and a happy feeling. Noctis saw a gentle smile hiding behind the camera, and his breath caught a little. Freckled cheeks, bright blue eyes and lips curved in the warmest of smiles. Summer itself shone its light on him from Prompto’s face.

“I think we got the shot, Noct. Candid suits you~” 

The only coherent thought that Noctis could form, however, was a very simple one - Prompto was way cuter than he initially realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we have got that Promptis thing running ;D Look forward to some Lunyx in the next chapter!


	4. Foreign Lands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Work brings Noctis and Prompto to Lestallum and Lunafreya - to Altissia where she meets a kind companion. Bonding ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got carried away with playing Stardew Valley lately but finally got around to posting this chapter. : D

“You have to eat it before it melts!”

Soft laughter drew the attention of passers-by to a couple of foreigners with light hair and lighter skin. The locals exchanged amused glances while watching them struggle with melting gelato. Their gazes lingered, however, and not because of melting ice cream. The foreigners were quite a sight to see.

Their own looks were of little consequence to Fleuret siblings. There was a catastrophe to manage.

Ravus made a face at the dripping gelato that covered his hand. He extended his hand forward to keep his suit safe while Lunafreya reached into her clutch to find something. It turned out to be a wet wipe that smelled faintly like fake orchids.

Luna managed to multitask. Her one hand held onto her own ice cream while the other one focused on cleanup efforts. It didn’t take more than a few swipes to clean Ravus’ hand. Luna tossed the dirty wipe in the trash and dug in her purse for some regular tissues. Just moments later Ravus’ cone of ice cream was gently pried from his fingers, wrapped in a clean tissue and handed back to him. Luna gave him a pleased smile, and Ravus cocked his eyebrow at her.

“Just how many different tissues do you have in there?”

The smile widened as Luna shook her head. Her blond curls danced around her face.

“Enough for you to not worry about any more ice cream spills.”

Ravus narrowed his eyes at Luna, but an upward curve to the corner of his lips betrayed his amusement. A lot of people seemed to think his sister was always serious. Ravus thought they were fools. She was polite, true. But a sense of humor was not lost on the younger of Fleuret siblings.

And neither was affection - a moment later Ravus found their arms linked. He glanced down to see the curious gaze of his sister swiveling her little head around as she appeared to try and absorb all that Altissia had to offer. This was less than ideal spot for sightseeing, however. He could offer her something better. They had to get higher for a clear view.

Luna found herself back in reality when Ravus headed for a nearby set of stairs, pulling her along.

“Where are we going?”

“Up.”

Luna’s fingertips trailed along the banisters as they ascended the three sets of stairs. Grey pavement under their feet had merged into stone steps in the same shade of grey. The sound of falling water got louder when it was not muffled and lost among the roofs and houses. A freshness that could only belong to sea wafted in the air.

They reached the top of the stairs where the tallest of buildings barely obscured the sight. Luna let go of Ravus and rushed off. Her brother followed, taking the time to enjoy the city at his own pace while Luna found the seat with the best view.

“I cannot believe I will get to live here. It is a dream,” Luna gushed, finally settling down in a spot where she could watch the cliffs and waterfalls encasing Altissia.

Ravus sat down across from her and frowned, noticing another trickle of gelato, this time - on Luna's ice cream. It seemed that his sister had forgotten her own treat. It had softened in the sun and dripped down the side of the cone. Ravus ripped off half of the tissue wrapped around a waffle cone in his hand. He reached across the table and pressed it against the melting ice cream before it hit Luna’s fingers. One sticky mess had been perfectly enough for one day.

“You will work here too. It is not all pleasure, sister.”  
  
“I know,” she glanced down at the piece of tissue Ravus had stuck to the side of her treat and smiled. “However will I handle it without you, I wonder?”

Ravus didn’t hide his smile anymore. If anyone could take on the challenges of separation and shine through even brighter than before, he believed wholeheartedly it was Lunafreya.

“I think you’ll do just fine.”

***

Noctis collapsed in the hotel bed, fully intent to relieve stiffness of the long travel with a nap. It was too hot to do anything else than just turn the AC on full blast and pass out. The stern gaze of Ignis he felt on his back suggested that the manager did not agree with that line of thought. Nothing was said out loud, though, and Noctis decided to take that as a permission.

With a relieved sigh, the model closed his eyes and let the softness of the bed to engulf him. The sound of Lestallum’s bustle was starting to fade out.

“C’mon, Noct, let’s go check out the town!”

The springs of the bed bounced when Prompto hopped in it with him, startling Noctis wide awake again. He gave the photographer a sleepy stare. Lestallum was not interesting enough to suffer its heat for the sake of sightseeing, no matter what the puppy eyes directed at him tried to convince Noctis of.

“It’s too hot.”

“Please? I’ve never been here! And with my luck, I’ll end up lost if I go on my own.”

“It is a good idea,” Ignis’ voice joined the conversation. “You have work to do early tomorrow. Perhaps you can use your free evening to make new friends.”

The mere suggestion got Ignis an open glare from his sleepy charge. He ignored it and refolded the spare clothing he had taken out from the neat travel bag. There was something awfully smug about his movements, but Noctis couldn’t pinpoint it beyond the fact that there had to be some sense of victory about it.

Noctis groaned and struggled to get back up. Lying down had been a smooth, sure movement. Getting up was the opposite. He pushed himself up on his hands and knees. Noctis felt his biceps struggle with keeping up his own body weight - unwillingness to move had seeped bone-deep. He peeked at Prompto through the mussed up strands of dark hair. This was all his fault.

Prompto’s face inched closer, “You’re coming?!”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Noctis gave him a lazy smile. “We can’t afford to lose you.”

“Awesome!”

And then the other’s body weight was added to his own, pushing Noctis back down into the mattress. Noctis’ arms flailed when his face ended up buried in the pillow nose-first.

“Get off, you’re heavy!”

“Mean!”

Ignis watched the scramble of the boys as they headed out. Prompto was nearly bouncing, and Noctis dragged his feet. They left a trail of mess all the way to the door. There was the blanket that had fallen off the bed and also Noctis’ jacket that now decorated the floor, clearly ditched there out of pure spite. The door closed, and silence fell upon the room.

Ignis let out a sigh as he crossed the room to pick the items that did not belong there off the floor. Through the open balcony door, a dry heat seeped in along with a mixture of smells - spices, garbage, dust. This was the Lestallum Ignis personally preferred - an echo of it. The ambiance of Lestallum was much more charming than the effervescent vitality of city in person.

Done with the cleaning up, Ignis settled in an armchair. The long drive from Insomnia had exhausted him. Perhaps it was time to take a lesson from Noctis and nap.

***

Mornings in Altissia were quiet, they were not filled with the bustle of traffic. Waking up to sounds of distant music and rushing water was peaceful. Luna smiled and glanced at the clock sitting on a bedside table. She had woken up just minutes before her alarm. It meant a few more moments of lazy morning rest.

Luna pulled the soft blanket over her head and hugged a pillow, head hitting the bouncy hotel mattress. Every bit of fabric in the room was soft to the touch. It also smelled nice in here. Nice enough, in fact, that Ravus had made no complaints while he waited for his boat’s arrival the previous night. ...But now he was gone, back on his way to Insomnia, and she was left here alone.

That thought seemed to sober Luna up. She sat up and reached for her smartphone that sat on the same bedside table. It buzzed when she picked it up. Her alarm. A quick slide of a finger across the screen got rid of the beeping that was quick to follow.

The ease that had settled in her limbs began to fade, and the reality dawned. It was cold, and her nightgown was not enough to keep her warm any longer. Luna draped a blanket over her shoulders like a cape. It helped the goosebump formed texture of her skin to smooth out again. But nothing brought back the previous calm. Luna inhaled and began her morning routine, hoping it would help.

A lukewarm shower to loosen the tension. Combing through the length of her blond hair. Getting dressed in something that felt nice on her skin. Moisturizer and lip gloss. A final look in the mirror, done. Lunafreya found herself presentable once more.

She stepped to her bedside table to check her purse. In it was a wallet, a small pack of tissues and an extra lipgloss - all things sat neatly stacked next to a round plastic bottle of medicine. She pretended to not notice the final item. There had been no need for it lately.

With the clutch organized, only one thing remained to be taken care of. The woman picked up a bottle of perfume and sprayed some in the air. The smell of salt and fabric softener that had dominated the room before gave way to a fresh waft of jasmine. Luna stepped into the mist of perfume and spun around. The scent that clung to her dress and skin was much softer, gentler than the one straight from the bottle.

A knock on the door got her attention. Luna put down the perfume bottle and walked to the door. It opened without a single creak - the small things made the Leville a pleasant experience far beyond a place to stay the night.

The knocker turned out to be a stranger in a black suit. A pin on his lapel suggested that he worked for Gralea, the fashion house she had signed a contract with. The first wave of confusion passed at that realization. Oh, of course! She was supposed to have a companion, according to the new contract - someone to serve both as a guide and security.

“Miss Fleuret, good morning. Change of plans, we have to get moving.”

“Already?”

“The boss wants your presence for the arrival of the designer.”

“I understand. Just a moment, please.”

Luna hurried back into her room, picked up her phone and purse and glanced in the mirror again. A nervous child stared back instead of a competent young woman.

***

As much as he hated to be outside in the sweltering heat of midday, Noctis had to admit that it was the time when Lestallum’s true nature shined. Even the sun itself was not enough to stop the lively flow of people nor their kindness to strangers. Instead of walking by one another with disinterest, these people waved and smiled. Prompto insisted that they wave back too.

The other seemed to be right at home in Lestallum. Noctis watched Prompto prance around with his camera lens pointed at everything that moved and even at things that didn’t. Sometimes it seemed that particularly funny-shaped stacks of garbage bags and peeling paint were enough to entertain him. Noctis followed along, trying to keep Prompto in sight at all times.

That was when nearby whispering got his attention. Two teens - a girl and a boy - were talking in lowered voices. Noctis wouldn’t have paid any attention to it if it was not for the fact that he heard something that sounded awfully a lot like his own name. The model picked up the pace to catch up with Prompto. Meeting people that knew who he was? Never on top of his ‘to do’ list.

Much to his own chagrin, Noctis was not fast enough. The sound of flip-flops followed him up the chipping stone steps.

“Excuse me?” a girl’s voice called out.

Noctis turned to face her. A round-cheeked brunette in her late teens. There was no way he knew her from somewhere, right? She didn’t look like a model and was too young to be an old classmate. Someone’s sister, maybe? She did look like Iris a little. Wait. That wasn’t Iris, right?

“Yes? ”

“You’re Noctis,” her voice had dropped to a whisper.

Noctis struggled to get something of a smile on his face. He really hated the social part of his career. The wish to just walk away from social interactions was always but a whim away. Sadly, doing that and then listening to Specs whine about it for a month after was somehow even worse. Noctis suspected it was the disappointment. Ignis had the motherly ability to imbue him with immense amounts of guilt.

“I am. Can I help you?”

At that point, the other teen had caught up to them. He was a stocky guy, a little shorter than the girl. There was something vaguely confused in his gaze. It seemed like the girl was the only one who had any idea who Noctis was. Small blessings.

The girl pulled out her phone. Its screen was cracked, but she did not seem to mind it and tapped away without qualms. It gave Noctis a moment to try and figure out what the girl could be after. The likelihood was one of two things - either his phone number or a picture.

The anticipation didn’t last long. She opened her camera app and waved the phone sheepishly.

“Can I take a picture with you?”

“Oh, yeah! Sure thing.”

His own saccharine voice made Noctis a little sick. He felt trapped. Ironically enough, it was an arm around his shoulders that lifted the feeling instead of constricting him further. Prompto had returned. Noctis made sure to silently thank whatever higher power was responsible for that.

Prompto’s presence had become comfortable. It was weird at first - the other liked touching, Noctis did not. But Prompto took it slow, working up from simple back pats and nudges all the way to hanging off his shoulders - the point where they were now. The slow pace was appreciated, and Noctis relaxed around him.

There were other benefits too. Prompto didn’t mean just comfortable companionship. He was better at dealing with people. Well, as long as they were not authorities. Then Noctis could watch the other quickly reduced from a social butterfly to an all too familiar awkward mess. But talking to a couple of teens shouldn’t be an issue.

As if having read Noctis’ mind, Prompto smiled at the two strangers.

“So, I heard you want to take a picture? How about I take it for you? Selfies are cool and all, but it’s really hard to hug someone and get a good picture~”

Prompto could feel Noctis’ shoulders stiffen under his arm. The photographer bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. Sure, he had come to help, but that did not mean that there would be no tradeoff. The shaky inhale and much smoother exhale he felt from those same stiff shoulders indicated some sort of submission, and Prompto grinned. Honestly, it wasn’t that hard to get Noctis to listen or try new things. How came Iggy struggled?

Still, he was smart enough to get away from Noctis before a sharp elbow could jab right into his ribs for his stunt. Prompto leaned over to inspect the girl’s phone.

“How about I take you a picture with that first and then a few with this bad boy?” he pointed at his camera. “Just give me your e-mail, I’ll shoot you the pictures as soon as I get to a laptop.”

“You would?” the girl near beamed. “That would be great, yeah!”

Noctis and the other teen watched with confused amazement how the girl’s focus shifted from the shy interest in the model to an open giggling. It seemed Prompto had won all of her attention within seconds.

By the time the girl, who they now knew by the name of Hannah, stood by Noctis’ side, her struggle with approaching Noctis had faded entirely. Her arms wrapped around his waist, and she smiled at the phone that was currently in Prompto’s hands. Noctis smiled as well and put an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

Unlike the fashion photographers, Prompto was anything but graceful while taking pictures. He stepped on a half-rotten wood box that he nearly toppled off or fell through at least twice. Noctis couldn’t help but let the amusement soften his sour feelings a little. Goof.

When the picture taking concluded and Prompto waved them over to take a look, Noctis was glad to be released from the hug. He too joined Prompto and the two teens looking at freshly taken pictures in the camera. Despite his own reluctance, Noctis had to admit that the shots looked nice and sincere.

Prompto handed him the camera while he looked for a pen to write down Hannah’s e-mail. The dimming display made Noctis curious. There was something odd in the picture that was left open. Namely, himself and the smile that was directed at the camera. Noctis didn’t recognize it. They made him smile in front of the camera all the time, and he did - a pleasant, attractive smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. This was different. Eyes crinkled, and the smile was as warm as that of the girl’s. ...How had that happened?

***

Gondolier’s humming matched the rhythm of waves hitting the side of their boat. The gondola coursed through the waves that didn’t manage to rock it - too small. It would be a pleasant ride if not for the morning chill that made breaths turn into white puffs of air.

Nyx glanced over the edge of their gondola. He encountered a bright reflection of the sun, and it briefly blinded him. He made a face and turned his gaze away from the shimmer. There was not much else to look at, though. People and tall buildings. Altissia was like every other big city, just flooded with water instead of traffic. Unable to find another anchor point, Nyx’s gaze drifted to the person across from him.

The woman sitting in the cushioned seat was very much a mystery to him still. He knew her name, he knew who she worked for (who they both worked for) and what his duties were regarding her. But the woman made his thoughts linger. If he recalled right her cheeks were rosier than that when they left the hotel. Couldn’t be a good sign.

“You okay there, miss?”

Luna startled at the sudden question and offered him a smile - as genuine as she could muster. It was almost good enough to fool Nyx.

“Yes, of course.”

Almost. His gaze dropped to the woman’s lap where she was wringing her hands so hard it was a miracle that she left no bruises. It seemed like the model was made of paper, and even a harsher caress would bruise. And yet her hands left no marks, she was tougher than she looked. Still not as tough as she wanted to be, though.

Nyx hummed and looked away, hoping that would be enough to make Lunafreya appear less like a startled deer that still tried to be gentle. Something was wrong with her, and it was his job to make sure it was taken care of. Nyx cleared his throat and went with his best guess.

“You know, when I came here first I was with my friends. They would get really mad at me because I was the only one who didn’t get sea-sick from riding around in gondolas all day. They both got really queasy. You know, they still complain about it to this day.”

Nyx’s short story made Luna smile, “It is most fortunate you did not suffer their fate, uhm-”

“Ulric. Nyx Ulric.”  
  
“Oh. It’s most fortunate, Mr. Ulric. I imagine being sea-sick from a boat ride must be quite the trouble if one has to spend some time in Altissia.”

Nyx nodded his head in agreement to that. The woman looked relaxed. Sea-sickness was not why she was turning white as a paper then. What else? Anxiety? Jetlag...? No. There was no airport in Altissia. Nearest one had to be in Galdin Quay.

Nyx didn’t have to ponder about the reason for his pale charge much longer after that. A soft rumble escaped her, and the woman clutched her stomach in horror, cheeks turning bright pink.

“I apologize,” she muttered.

He breathed a sigh of relief. This sort of thing they could fix.

Nyx waved his hand, “Don’t worry about it. I did pick you up earlier than you probably were ready. Did you have time for a breakfast?”  
  
“Well,” the model hesitated for a moment. “No, not really.”

“Great. Me neither. If we are quick on our feet when we get off, I bet we can squish in a breakfast. What do you say, miss?”

The pale face brightened up with some color and a smile alike. Luna nodded her head, and her hands relaxed.

“I would enjoy that very much.”

***

Their stay in Lestallum lasted for a few days. The dry heat that had been insufferable upon arrival became the new norm. While it got hotter here than it ever was back home, the types of heat were incomparable. Lack of humidity helped them adjust.

New habits formed as well. Ignis put a sunscreen out for Noctis every morning. The model had to preserve his complexion for the duration of the project - a small series of TV commercials. The project was very important as it was Noctis’ first time working for TV, and it could not be risked. Appearing on the screens all across Eos would open up an entirely new set of opportunities.

New horizons opened in other senses as well. A lot had changed since they hired Prompto. In just a few weeks the young man had not only grown comfortable with the entirely new environment that the fashion industry provided, he began a small revolution. It mostly revolved around opening Noctis up, but the effects sent ripples of pleasant consequences outwards. It was easier to work with the young model, he was less irritable and spiteful. That meant fewer issues with organization and participation in various events. Which, in turn, brought the interest of new clients, as did the personality they promoted through Instagram. Now fashion magazines, advertising agencies and even a couple of indie filmmakers had shown interest. Ignis was pleased, Regis was pleased, and the future of Caelum Modelling Agency looked brighter than it had before.

Prompto and Noctis themselves realized little of just what the easy friendship that blossomed between them meant in a grander scale of things. To them it was something warm and personal, it was quips and laughs as they took pictures as stupid as they could think of and presented them as ‘Instagram worthy’ ones to Ignis to try and peeve him. Their friendship did not feel like a commercial success, it felt like elbows in each other’s sides, intense rivalry in King’s Knight and laughter.

Sometimes it also felt like lying down in a hotel bed the evening before returning home and looking through pictures. Their discarded jackets were folded up and placed in the armchair, and their boots sat in a neat row next to the exit from the hotel room. All thanks to Ignis, as always. The manager himself had set out for a stroll to the market to procure some spices. Being in Lestallum in person was a rare opportunity to stock up on spices he usually had to order. That left the two young men on their own.

The two were sprawled out on their stomachs with Prompto’s camera in front of them. They took turns flipping between the pictures, zooming in on faces of one another and random people who happened to be in the background and laughing. It was Prompto’s turn, and he skipped a few pictures to bring up one he had taken early that same morning. Noctis, fast asleep, his hair sticking up. There was a small, wet patch next to the corner of his mouth.

“Dude, you totally drooled on the pillow.”  
  
“I didn’t! I spilled my water there!”

The teasing and complaining turned into pushing one another and laughter. Prompto nudged his camera further among the pillows to protect it as hands and feet went to war. His arms were stronger than Noctis’ - a fact that Prompto refused to stop bragging about. At the same time, Noctis had surprisingly well-developed legs.

In the end, kicking proved to be a winning strategy. Trying to avoid the annoying jabs to his shins, Prompto pulled back and found himself a little too close to the edge. He yelped and grabbed onto the blanket for balance. Before he could use it to pull himself back in the bed, Prompto was met with a pleased grin on the other’s face, suddenly much closer than it had been a moment ago.

“Long live the king,” Noctis whispered and pried Prompto’s hands off the blanket.

The photographer landed on the floor with a soft thud and stuck his middle finger up at the other. That got a little snort from Noctis who was leaning over the edge of the bed to enjoy the glory of his victory - a pose he had not fully thought through. Prompto reached up, grabbed his T-shirt and yanked.

Noctis tumbled down to the ground with about as much grace as the other had. His forearms were on the floor, keeping him up. One ankle had tangled in the blanket cover and kept one of his feet still up on the mattress while the other was down on the ground. Prompto was underneath him, laughing so hard Noctis saw tears appearing in the corner of his eyes.

“Man, your _face_ ,” Prompto gasped a comment. “This was so worth it!”

“...You little shit.”

Noctis freed his ankle and flopped on top of the other with his whole weight, knocking the air out of Prompto. The other could not complain - he was the one who taught him this one!

“Dude! Heavy!”

That was how Ignis found them upon his return - on the ground, laughing so hard their faces had turned red. The boys barely paid any attention to him as they squirmed with two very different objectives. Prompto was trying to free himself, and Noctis - to keep him still. Mere moments later a weapon of power Prompto had not bargained with was put to action. Tickling. The laughter grew louder.

The manager shook his head and walked to the coffee table to put down the brown paper bag. In it sat a few rare ingredients and spices that he dared to risk taking back to Insomnia for a long drive. Usually, that alone would be a cause for good mood. But he found himself worried, unnerved as if a new problem had presented itself.

It seemed like the two had finally noticed Ignis. The ruckus died down, and feet shuffled his way. Likely interested in the dinner he had promised before heading out. And sure enough-

“What’s for dinner, Specs?” Noctis’ voice asked.

Ignis felt a breath on the back of his neck as his charge had leaned over his shoulder to peek inside the shopping bag. Having found no snacks in there, he slumped back again, disappointed.

The manager straightened his back and turned to the two boys who waited for the answer in absolutely angelic silence. A genuine smile lit up Ignis’ face.

“I know you already took part in the wrap party of the filming, but I believe we need to celebrate that in a more personal atmosphere as well. We are eating out tonight. Let us go if you two are ready.”

Two cheers followed, and the boys dashed to get their boots on. Ignis picked up his wallet, phone and keys to the room. He followed them, making sure to turn off the lights on the way out.

It was when he watched the two without interrupting - Prompto slapping Noctis’ buttocks, laughing and running off just to be chased by the other down the stairs - when Ignis realized where the issue was. The change in Noctis’ socialization habits was not the same with everyone. He was more open, true. But not this open. Not with everyone. His relationship with Prompto could pose a significant issue in the future.

Friendships, as important and precious as they were to personal and social development, remained extremely vulnerable to change. The industry was full of opportunities that would come at a cost, and often that cost was parting ways with loved ones to continue one’s growth. Ignis couldn’t help the heavy feeling in his chest. He did not think the boys he looked after were ready for that fact.

***

Warm Altissian breakfast had returned their vigor to both Luna and her companion, and they headed forward with a newfound strength. At first, Luna had been hesitant to indulge in the delicious-smelling grilled sandwich despite Nyx’s more than convincing pitch for the snack. It was the ooze of a melted mozzarella cheese that finally persuaded her to sin and indulge. That had been a wonderful decision. The dry-cured ham hiding under the melted layer of cheese made Luna’s mouth water just thinking back on it. Her stomach did not feel like an empty, hungering pit any longer either. There was no more danger of embarrassing sounds escaping during an important first meeting. It made her a little more confident, and Luna strode on with a raised head.

She trailed after Nyx, her gaze wandering around but always returning to the starting point to find the dependable, broad back still there. It felt much safer to walk around the unfamiliar city while following Nyx. Trying to navigate Altissia with Ravus, the two ended up nearly getting lost four separate times even with a map application open. The staircases, bridges and tiny passages were a merciless maze to anyone visiting the place. It made Luna wonder for how long had Nyx been here.

The woman hurried to catch up when her companion ducked into a small passage between the buildings. It seemed like it would stop in a dead end, but the little path twisted and turned among the walls and trash cans to lead them out on a populated street once again. Luna glanced back at the tight passage they had just used. She would never dare to explore one of those on her own.

“You will get lost if you stay distracted,” Nyx’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Stay close.”

“I apologize.”

Luna quickened her pace to match it to his. Walking side by side, she noticed a few things that had escaped her before. Nyx had really long strides, and she had to speed up to keep up with him. He was taller than she imagined. And there were tattoos on his face. How curious.

One quick turn of her companion’s head changed everything about Luna’s idle curiosity. Her gaze met a lopsided smirk. Nyx had noticed.

“You’re staring.”

Luna sputtered and dropped her gaze.

Nyx watched heat rise to her cheeks out of embarrassment. It was nice to see some color after the earlier pallor. But, damn, she was like a child. ...That was not entirely a complaint. It was almost endearing. Made him want to protect her. Which was good since that was one of his duties.

The protecting had to be quite minimal at that point - they had arrived. Nyx and Luna stood in front of a beautiful estate, walled off from the bustle of the city with a high fence and guards at the entrance gate. A private lodge belonging to one of Gralea’s executives made home there and also - their destination for that morning.

It appeared they were the first ones to arrive - no sign of the designer that they were supposed to meet there, not yet. Nyx nodded towards a nearby bench. They could monitor the gate from there, but the lady in his care wouldn’t risk twisting her ankle on cobblestones, at least for five minutes. Nyx did not want to take the risk when it could be avoided. The soft, relieved sigh that accompanied Luna taking a seat gave him an impression that she was not against this decision either.

Nyx sat down next to Luna and looked around. It was oddly quiet. Even for the relative silence of the city he had gotten used to, this was unusual. Pleasant, though.

They sat in silence, looking around and mostly avoiding looking at one another. Such things as watching someone were usually done in passing or secret. While every bit of the scenery and random passers-by were a fair game, the social norms were much stricter with people one had to actually interact with. Indirect gazes over honesty, veiled questions over open curiosity.

It was a tiresome game. Lunafreya was sick of playing it with every word she spoke. Nyx seemed to be the kind of person that would not get upset by her honesty. She took a deep breath.

“Pardon my curiosity, Mr. Ulric. Your facial markings are rather unique. I was pondering over the origin of those.”

“My tattoos? It’s a Galahdian thing.”

The sharp intake of breath he heard next to him caused Nyx to laugh. Yeah, that was the usual reaction. Galahd was known for its beauty, uncontested by any other place in Lucis and, perhaps, even entirety of Eos. Picturesque mountains and a canopy of giant trees, sea encasing the land and rivers flowing through it, songs of birds and people. It was a paradise.

That was what the advertisements said anyway. There were many people that feared ever visiting Galahd as well. They were intimidated by the rumors of swarms of mosquitoes and weird, ancient traditions of natives. Or they just had a really sensitive stomach when it came to hot food. It took some gastrointestinal mettle to handle the local cuisine.

Nyx glanced at Lunafreya, wondering which category she belonged to. The sparkle in her eyes was the only answer he needed. Nyx smiled.

“You should visit somewhen. My home is a beautiful place, miss.”

“It is indeed,” a third voice interrupted them before Luna could answer. “Ah, the beautiful Galahd! Shame for the wildlife, it’s quite nasty.”

The man that spoke seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Like a raven among colorful finches, he stood out with a dark outfit that didn’t lack a flair for dramatics. Layers upon layers - shirt, vest, jacket, coat. A leather decoration that reminded a wing ran along one of the outfit’s sleeves. Amber eyes peeked from underneath a black hat.

“Ardyn Izunia, at your humble service. I believe you are waiting for me?”


	5. Honeyed Teacups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna settles in her new home and job and creates a cozy tradition with Nyx. Something darker rears its head.

They gathered around a large table in the dining hall. The four seated figures made for a little strange company. Mr. Venturi - their host - was about to retire from his position in Gralea fashion house after working there for many years. The current CEO of Gralea, Iedolas Aldercapt, was also present as well as the famed designer Ardyn Izunia who happened to be their guest of honor that night. Lunafreya and her companion, standing behind her chair, were a last minute addition.

Despite being a guest, Iedolas sat at the end of the table. His authority seemed to justify it. The balding but extremely well-dressed Mr. Venturi sat on his left while their guest of honor was seated to the right. The designer seemed rather pleased with the seating arrangement and engaged Aldercapt and their host alike in a lively debate about best travel means between Accordo and Niflheim.

It was also the point in the conversation where they lost the interest of Lunafreya entirely. She had been able to contribute to the previous discussion that revolved around the tendencies dominant in the recently released collections. But even then her comments had been met with an instant change of the topic. Luna opted to fall silent and let her attention drift away. She felt safe enough to do so with Nyx behind her back - the man had gained her trust that morning.

The room they had gathered in breathed the same way waters of the city did. Gray marble walls, smooth and perfect, were marked with lines of pure white from within the rock itself. Like the waves constantly lapping at the stone edges of Altissia. Along the walls were exquisite gold statues, hiding in little niches but each maintaining a pristine shine.

The space around them fascinated Lunafreya far more than the conversation that men were having. But it went on regardless, echoing in the room.

“I would expect it. Isn’t that why you took that horribly long ride?” the CEO’s voice pierced and rattled even when it was amused. “You do Gralea a great honor by joining our team for this collaboration.”

In comparison, Ardyn’s tone flowed like silk, “You flatter me, Iedolas. But I would like to see the proposals your local designer has worked on for the next winter, certainly.”

“Good. I have them with me.”

The heavy thud of a suitcase landing on the table startled Luna back to reality, and she watched as Iedolas opened latches and turned the suitcase around. In it was a bound volume of sketches. Everyone leaned in with at least some degree of curiosity. Even Nyx tilted his head over Luna’s shoulder to see a little better when Ardyn reached out to pick up the volume.

The designer didn’t sit back down in his seat and instead hopped on the table, his foot propped on Lunafreya’s chair. He didn’t appear to care when the dust from the shoe came in contact with the padding of the chair and light fabric of her dress. Luna was not as casual about it and gently pulled the dress back, seating herself just a little closer to the opposite edge of the seat. The previous excitement on her face was tainted a wrinkle between her brows.

Ardyn’s initial interest turned into a disappointed frown upon inspecting the very first sketch. His nose scrunched up, and his silent flipping of pages that was quick at first got slower. It stopped entirely when he reached the middle of the bound collection of the sketches. Ardyn sighed and tossed the heavy stack of papers onto the table next to him, still opened to a design of a long, grey and white coat. It landed with a dull thud.

“How terribly bland!” he called out in disappointment. “Camelia’s designs are as stiff and boring as herself. Where is the creativity? Uniqueness? Where is the fashion?! This is so awfully plebeian.”

Iedolas echoed Ardyn’s sentiment with a dry laugh, “I suppose you think you can do better? Very well. Take over as the lead designer yourself then, power and responsibility alike. Scrap it entirely if you like and start anew. But I do expect results. Failure is not acceptable.”

“Oh, truly? What a tempting offer! May I have a few days to consider~?”

The men’s laughter that followed made Luna frown. This was not what the collaboration was supposed to look like. As far as she had been clued in on the process, Camelia Claustra, the current lead designer for the next year’s winter collection, had been working on it since the idea’s conception. Mr. Izunia’s input was supposed to freshen the work up, to add new, interesting details to Claustra’s designs, not to toss them in the garbage in favor of his own passion project.

Her skin crawled with pure disagreement. But a model’s place was not to speak her opinion, that much was made clear in the contract and the previous conversation alike. She was the body on which those designs would be finished, perfected. They would fit her like a glove, setting a standard for the size range of the collection which was always very limited when it came to Gralea’s designs. Lunafreya’s place in this was not much more than that of a glorified clothing rack. And yet...

Her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Was the paycheck really worth it if she had to work with people like that?

One voice in her head whispered about the wonderful, wonderful opportunity this was. Building a relationship with a luxury brand opened up the possibility of a long-term contract that would leave her more than wealthy and able to retire at her leisure within a decade if she so desired. Or, if Luna wanted it - there were doors that this work would open for her. The shadow of Gralea towering behind her, whatever she wished to do - she could.

Her conscience was not quite as certain. To stay silent in the face of injustice? It felt cowardly. But the contract kept her lips from parting, her own signature on the dotted line chained and bound her. The company’s best interests were now hers as well. And Aldercapt was the one who decided what those interests were.

Luna remained silent but did reach out to gently pull the sketches closer to her. Her eyebrows furrowed upon inspecting the design of the coat a little closer. The bold, asymmetric impression of the cut was softened with a large belt around the waist that was tied like a giant ribbon. It drew attention to the womanly form of the wearer rather than overwhelming and hiding it. A beautiful design that she would be proud to wear.

She flipped a page and found a two-piece suit. The cut was manly, accentuated with a gentle, white scarf. Another page, another design - a khaki grey trench coat. Another - beige, luxurious dress with a geometrical train. More. A black jacket with feathered shoulder pads. More! A long, knit dress and a powder blue jacket on top.

Her fingers stopped flipping after that. The work was phenomenal. Bold, womanly and elegant. It was everything Gralea had been offering for years. Sketches contained designs that would be a wonderful addition to the fashion house’s many successful collections. And yet none of this was found beautiful, none of it spoke to these men? ...Did anything that was not their own opinion?

Thoughts had distracted Lunafreya from the room around her. It was silent, and the three men seated around a table watched the frown on her face as she came to a halt while viewing the designs. It was Ardyn who had hushed the others, and it was him who approached the woman caught in her own thoughts. He leaned in and wrapped his arm around the back of her chair.

“You need not look at those boring things, doll. What we are going to dress you in will be pure color and style. You will shine for us brighter than any star in the sky.”

Luna froze in her seat, blue eyes widening as her heart sped up. Ardyn’s voice that had been a distant, sickly sweet sound was suddenly too close. His breath smelled like cigarettes and tickled her shoulder through the thin layer of her dress. Luna felt goosebumps form on her skin, felt her breath - hitch. But she also found herself unable to move away.

Something was expected of her. Three pairs of eyes pierced her skin and dug deep inside, prodding and pulling at insecurities with passionless scrutiny and sneer. She felt stripped of all defenses except for her purse that sat in her lap and was the poorest form of a shield she could imagine. But it would have to do.

Mother had told her once that she was a brave girl. At that time Luna couldn’t have been older than seven. The adults had praised her for being a little adult herself - something that Luna had found odd. A couple of hard lessons that she had learned early on did not mean Luna was any more than a child at the time. But they had expected her to be. Shoes, too big for her tiny feet to fill.

But she was not seven any longer. The shoes fit fine if she just found the courage within herself, and that she did. Luna took a deep breath and raised her gaze to meet Ardyn’s. Blue clashed with amber, unafraid. Her fingers held on to the purse as if it would help her anchor her thoughts.

“Actually, I do not mind Mrs. Claustra’s designs. They are quite elegant and in line with Gralea’s brand choices over the past five years.”

“Is that so?”

It was a feline kind of curiosity that brought Ardyn even closer to Luna. He loomed over her like a jungle predator would over its prey moments before striking. The smell of cigarettes drowned out the rest of the world, and Luna was silenced. Her fingers clutched her purse tighter as a languid smile began to spread across Ardyn’s face. Luna felt trapped.

The movement on her left was sudden. Nyx stepped forward and removed Ardyn’s arm from the back of the chair. He was calm, polite, but pointed in his actions. As soon as the designer straightened up and took a step back, confusion lacing his features, Nyx spoke.

“I believe you have made your point. If this meeting is concluded, I’d like to return miss Fleuret to her suite.”

Luna welcomed her companion’s closeness and care alike. The broad, gentle back had not betrayed her yet. She hid behind it while the three pairs of eyes met to decide if she had earned her freedom yet.

The men exchanged confused glances, but ultimately permitted her to leave.

***

Both Lunafreya and Nyx stammered on the doorstep, unsure of what to say or do. Whatever lines of duty had separated them that morning had become muddled, faint if they were even there at all. They had to trust themselves to navigate the unclear distance between themselves further. And while Nyx was better at finding his way through Altissia, Luna found a path through complicated feelings much easier.

She opened the door to her hotel room a little wider and smiled, “Would you like to come in for tea, Mr. Ulric?”

Nyx met the offer with even more hesitance. That was not the kind of a proposal he had expected to come out of his charge’s mouth. A single eyebrow cocked in question as he inspected her expression, seeking some kind of hint of what exactly did she mean. It couldn’t be…?

Luna’s smile had dropped when it was met with silence, but the remnants of it still curled her lips. A question stared back from the blue eyes - why had he not answered? There was no sign of cheekiness or seduction there, the offer seemed to extend only to what Lunafreya had named out loud - tea.

“...I have cookies if you’d like some? I brought them along from Insomnia in case I made friends and wished to invite them over.”

Well, he had been wrong. Tea and cookies then. Nyx found the tension draining from his body. He smiled and reprimanded himself. Honestly, what had he expected?

“Yeah,” he finally agreed and stepped inside her hotel room. “Tea and cookies sound good.”

Luna clasped her hands and showed Nyx to a red sofa sitting behind a small coffee table. He took his time, watching the woman out of the corner of his eye when she turned back to the door. This was a chance to see her acting out of her role. Incredible amounts of information could be extracted if one just paid attention to how someone moved about in a familiar space.

As expected, the woman closed and locked the door as soon as she could. Careful and private, it seemed. Her glance gravitated towards Nyx which made him drop his and move. He circled around the coffee table and sat down on the sofa with a little grunt. The damn thing was more than comfortable.

Seeing her guest relaxing, Luna got less nervous about the whole ordeal as well. She smiled and headed deeper into the room where a small kitchenette hid. It was her first time actually trying to do something here on her own. When Ravus was there, he had made it his duty to make both of them a cup of tea to drink before having dinner. But Luna was not lost even without Ravus’ rather limited skills in the kitchen.

The clinking of a teaspoon as it dropped the measured amount of tea leaves in the cup echoed all the way to where Nyx sat. It was a homey sound, one that he was not quite used to having around. Living alone, TV and radio were the only background noises in day to day life back at his apartment. This was new and pretty pleasant.

“How many spoonfuls of sugar do you take with your tea? Any milk?” Luna’s face appeared around the corner, curious.

Nyx shook his head, “No sugar, no milk. Do add some extra tea while you’re at it, though.”

“It will be bitter if I do…?”

“That’s the way I like it.”

“All right,” she did not seem fully convinced, but the crinkling sound of what Nyx assumed to be a tea packet and the following clinking of the spoon assured him that Luna did listen to his wishes in the matter.

He leaned back in the sofa a little more and took a look around.

What caught his eye first was the rather curious arrangement on the coffee table in front of him. Freshly cut flowers sat in a vase in the midst of it. Pretty, but nothing out of the ordinary. The champagne glasses and several unopened bottles of the drink itself around it were far more curious. Nyx smelled the air. No waft of stale alcohol to it. It seemed like Lunafreya had not touched any of them.

His gaze moved on while he waited, sliding along the pale tapestry and heavy fabric of the curtains. If not for the softness, polish and lack of even a speck of dust, he would have never guessed that this was among the most expensive rooms in the Leville. The reception boasted rich wood, beautiful carpets and perhaps the most unnecessarily impressive indoors fountain he had ever seen. This room, as comfortable as it was, barely lived up to that expectation.

Something did, however. Its inhabitant. She was easily the most luxurious thing in this entire room. Nyx watched Luna carry a white platter upon which clinked two cups of freshly made tea. He had seen models before - in magazines, on TV, in real life sometimes. But she was something he found himself unable to figure out. Was she a nervous child in a woman’s body? A slave to manners and contractual obligations? Or something else entirely?

It was her smile, once more directed at Nyx and only Nyx, that made his thoughts scatter right then and there. It did not matter. She was magnificent.

“You reprimanded me earlier for staring. Is it not what you are doing now, Mr. Ulric?”

The corner of Nyx’s mouth quirked up, and he dropped his gaze to the teacup held out to him. Rough, tan hands took it from the dainty, pale ones.

“Just ‘Nyx’ is fine,” he avoided the answer to the question.

“Very well, Nyx. I hope you enjoy your tea. If you wish for any sugar or milk after all, please, let me know.”

Nyx nodded. He inhaled the scent that arose from the cup. Its tart sweetness tickled his nose and nudged Nyx to relax while the faint citrusy notes kept him alert. What a contradiction.

“What kind of tea is that?”

“Black tea with lemon. It seemed like you might enjoy something… Simpler, stronger, uhm-...”

“Not girly?” Nyx snorted a laugh at the expression on the hostess’ face. “I don’t mind girly if it tastes good.”

“Oh! I’ll- I will make sure to keep that in mind. For… Your next visit?”

Their gazes met across the edges of the teacups. Two different shades of blue, veiled slightly by the rising steam of the tea, and pupils - just a little darker than a moment ago.

“I’m invited for another visit?”

“If you’d like to be.”

***

Ardyn had scared her the first time they met, but that fear was quick to fade when Lunafreya learned he enjoyed her more polite version of a backtalk. It was less prevalent in times when Camelia, the other designer, was present. However, those times were rare as the sudden demotion had brought a whole slew of new duties over her head while Ardyn took over the winter collection and creation of the final designs.

As much as Luna did not want to admit it, the man was very skilled in his job. The reworked sketches and the entirely new ones Ardyn had created from scratch were shaping the new winter collection into a true burst with color and personality. They managed to keep a light, youthful take on the fashion even when working with heavier, thicker materials in mind.

Nyx was not there when she worked. He sat in a room nearby in case if he was needed, but Luna’s companion was not allowed in the room with rolls of fabric, safety pins and large tables with fine paper on them. It was a sanctum of Ardyn’s - his to do with as he pleased. He always brought in his living mannequin - Lunafreya. Sometimes there were assistants or Mrs. Claustra. Sometimes there was music or an open window through which a salty breeze from the sea sneaked in.

Sometimes there was silence.

The dry sound of a pencil against paper broke that silence and, once in a while, so did a muffled curse. Ardyn had been working on a particular design of Camelia’s since early morning, trying to reshape it. Luna had been wrapped in red, blue and white fabric already, and he had not decided which one to choose, not even speaking of anything beyond that. The design itself seemed like a faraway dream.

Luna couldn’t help but hope that the inspiration would strike him soon. The room they worked in was beautiful, but there was something extremely cold to the marble. Stone refused to hold any warmth, and even with Ardyn’s jacket wrapped around her shoulders, Luna found herself shivering. One of the designer’s rules was her always being ready for his ideas and not holding the process up with unnecessary getting dressed just to take her clothes back off minutes later.

Usually, the rule made sense. Staying in her undergarments sped the process, and didn’t hinder the designer’s vision or artistic process. But not on the days when all windows remained closed and even the sun sneaking in through the windows couldn’t warm the room. Luna pulled the jacket tighter around her. The fur on the inside of it brushed against her goosebumps. It tickled, and she failed to suppress a faint giggle.

Ardyn noticed. The scribbling of the pencil stopped, and the room was drowned in a tense silence.

“Is there anything funny I should be aware of?”

Luna sat up straighter. Goosebumps that had formed on her skin got more prominent, but the brush of fur against her skin didn’t elicit any sort of amusement anymore. Ardyn’s tone had held a warning to it, like silk underneath which a poisoned edge of the blade hid. She had to tread carefully.

“I apologize. I did not mean to interrupt your work,” she said.

Ardyn inhaled and tapped the end of the pencil against the desk, every minor collision sharp and resounding. The same sharpness was present in his pursed lips. The apology was not enough, it seemed. Luna opened her mouth to try again but didn’t arrive at words first, Ardyn beat her to the punch.

“I have bigger concerns than your giggling, doll.”

“Still, I am so sorry, I-”

“Lunafreya, dear,” he cut her short and turned in his chair to face the model. “Despite being chubby, you are beautiful. That alone is all the help I need with my work. And your sass, sometimes. But not today. So stick to your strong suits. Got it?”

She gave a little nod and dropped her head, “Of course, sir.”

“It’s ‘Ardyn’, dear.”

“...Of course, Ardyn.”

The man smiled, “There you go. That’s better.”

He turned back towards his work, and the pencil scribbled on. Instead of unsure, the lines drawn seemed to come with confidence and power. It appeared that releasing some steam had helped the creative process somewhat. Ardyn even picked up a tune, humming it under his breath. His low tone and a faint smell of cigarettes filled the cold room.

Meanwhile, Luna sat silent. Being reprimanded had nothing to do with it - she had worked in the fashion industry for a while now, and knew just how sensitive artists were about the smallest of details. It was something else that had caught her off guard. ‘Chubby’.

Blue gaze trailed down along her arms, stomach, legs. There it finally stopped, having found supple roundness to her thighs. Perhaps it was a little too pronounced? Gralea’s range of sizes had traditionally been for very thin, petite women that could afford luxury goods. Same went for haute couture - they designed only for certain women that met the same criteria. If Luna hoped to compare with these beautiful women, to set a standard for an entire collection if not more, she had to be perfect.

*** 

The doorstep where goodbyes usually unfurled and paths diverted meant nothing to Luna and Nyx. The first evening they shared tea and cookies became a tradition that they observed with the importance that only close companionships could bring about. Every day - it did not matter if they worked then or didn’t, the hour didn’t matter either.

It was the little details that made it special. Luna took off her shoes and snuggled up comfortably in the armchair with her feet pulled up on the seat. Nyx stretched out along the length of the sofa to her left. He did not take off his boots - a constant source of horror and amusement alike for the hostess. There was always laughter, there were always cookies, and there was always a single drop of honey that Luna sneaked in Nyx’s cup, thinking he would not notice.

He did notice. She had started doing that on the third tea time they shared when she thought the cup might turn out too bitter even for him. Nyx’s assurance that he really did not mind bitter tea had done nothing. The drop of honey in his tea added a mild sweetness to it. Nyx had decided against saying a word when he saw the smile she tried to hide behind her cup, thinking she had gotten away with her sneaky little ways.

Honey was an acquired taste for Nyx. On its own, the thing was too sweet to be enjoyable, but that tiny drop in his tea - he gained a certain fondness for it over time. As he did with the smile hiding behind the teacup, though, that one took no getting used to at all. From the first moment, Luna's joy had been nothing short of enchanting.

The familiar clatter of cups upon the tray brought Nyx’s attention back to the soft padding of Luna’s bare feet towards him. She set the tray down and held his cup out to him. Nyx accepted it with a little nod and leaned back into the sofa. Luna picked up the other teacup and got into her seat, curled up like a cat. She didn’t spill a single drop in the process - a small detail that always fascinated Nyx. Must be a really steady hand.

“Well,” she smiled at him and inhaled the rising steam. “Let us try your tea then. Thank you for bringing it.”

Nyx huffed, an amused smile curling his lips. Of course, she would mention it! It was no big deal, really. Luna had ran out of one of her teas so Nyx bought her a local one to replace it. After all, he was a big reason why the tea was gone. And yet she treated it like a fine gift. It was a little flattering in a way he did not fully understand.

They drank the tea. Jasmine was bitter by itself, but the little droplet of honey in the tea eased its edge a little. They sipped in silence, watching each other out of the corner of their eyes and listening to the music that flowed in through the open window along with the sounds of falling water and distant conversation.

Luna leaned forward to gently push the plate with cookies closer to Nyx. She realized only now that the initial arrangement on the coffee table had changed. Little champagne bottles and glasses were moved off to the side, all sitting in a little crowded circle near the edge. Even the vase with fresh flowers was moved aside as the tray for teacups and cookies took up most of the space.

“You’re going to make me fat,” Nyx mock-complained and picked up a couple of chocolate chip cookies.

He held one out to Luna. It was another thing they had worked into their little routine. As a model, she was supposed to watch what she ate. Luna never picked up cookies from the plate of her own volition. But she also did not turn down one when Nyx offered it to her. So he offered every time he picked one up, and every time she accepted.

Every time but this. Luna shook her head and smiled at him as she leaned back in her seat, seemingly retreating. Nyx leaned back as well, plopping both cookies on his stomach to eat after he had taken a few sips of the tea. Another thing surprised him - Luna had made no comment about his boots on the couch this time.

He glanced at the woman who was sipping her tea in complete silence and watching the curtains that swayed in the breeze. She appeared nothing but serene with her cup of tea in one hand. But Nyx looked closer and saw a small crease between her eyebrows, hint of pain pursing her lips and the other arm that had wrapped tightly around her waist. She was also paler. Food poisoning, perhaps?

But then she looked at him and smiled, and disarmed him of any questions. She was so brave that it sometimes hurt to watch. If it was serious, there was no way she could hide it. That thought eased his mind, and Nyx allowed Luna to keep her secret or whatever it was. He merely adjusted his pose to get the boots off the sofa.

That got an amused chuckle in response.

“My, aren’t you proper today?”

“I’m known to be when it pleases me.”

But not even the honeyed teacup and shared laughter could ease the bitter taste that Luna hiding her pain left on his tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is as far as I have it prewritten, the rest of the story should come out as I write it. (I have chapter 6 shaping up already!) Let me know how you find it so far if you have the chance?


	6. Pale Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto falls ill. Noctis discovers how much that makes him miss the other. Social anxiety, champagne and first feelings love. And Sigur Rós (because I can).

Ignis could feel Noctis’ gaze nearly boring a hole in the back of his head. He took a few steps closer to the window to gain some distance from the other. It didn’t seem to help as he heard footsteps behind him, following with the same demanding curiosity. There was no hiding the reality of the situation from his charge. The manager suppressed a sigh as the familiar tightness of a tension headache began to settle in.

Several disjointed coughs, mixed in among words, brought his attention back to the phone call he was in the middle of. A worried frown wrinkled Ignis’ forehead as the coughing on the other end kept interrupting the person’s speech. It was painful to listen to. Him staying home was the only sensible option. Surely, Noctis would understand.

“Yes, of course it is no issue. …No. Do not worry. Your presence, appreciated as it may be, is not a requirement this time. … Yes. ...Then you take another day off, obviously. … Alright, Prompto. If your cold is not better by tomorrow night, go see a doctor. ...I understand. …Very well then, rest now. I will talk to you soon.”

Ignis ended the call. He returned the phone to his pocket, and a heavy sigh that he had been fighting off for half an hour finally escaped him. He took off his glasses to clean them and reconsider the current situation.

There was a certainty now - something they had lacked ever since Prompto called in sick that morning. He was not coming to the event, and it was the only sensible decision with him sounding like death itself had him in its grip. There was no need to torture the young man when a warm bed and rest was so needed.

The manager wished that his only feelings in the matter were the concern for Prompto’s wellbeing but something else troubled him as well. This posed a new issue when it came to Noctis and his reaction. His charge had been looking forward to a social event for the first time in what seemed like forever. That excitement would be gone like smoke the moment Noctis was certain he was going alone. Ignis found himself worrying that some poor manners were about to emerge as well if he failed to explain properly. He took a deep breath, put his glasses back on and turned to Noctis.

It seemed that there was no need for explanations. The model sat slumped in a chair instead of still waiting around as close as he was allowed. Noctis’ expression warned Ignis that he was already sulking, but there was something almost sad about it. It was impossible to tell if the feeling had something to do with Prompto’s condition or if it was a selfish grudge about being left on his own for the evening. Either way, Ignis knew he had to choose his words with meticulous care.

“It seems Prompto’s cold has gotten much worse since this morning. I am afraid he is too ill to join us for the fundraiser this time.”

Noctis gave a silent nod. He didn’t lift his gaze to Ignis, merely pulled at a loose thread that had come undone from the sleeve of his suit jacket. Ignis opened his mouth to suggest cutting the thread but refrained. It was a distraction - cheap and simple, but it would do for a while. Noctis needed something to keep him busy and not agitated. If the thread could help, that was fortunate, no matter how odd.

“Can we go see him later?” Noctis asked.

The quiet question earned him a slight smile from Ignis, “The event ends at midnight. Prompto will be sleeping by then.”

“He won’t. We always play games until one.”

Ignis had to resist making a snide remark about that. So that was the reason Noctis seemed more sleepy as of late. He had suspected it to be the stress or, perhaps, chatting with Lunafreya past his bedtime - she was in another time zone. But no. It was Prompto, yet again. Ignis couldn’t say it was entirely unexpected. Noctis’ attachment to their young colleague was a continued source of worry for a while now. The manager chose not to take any action regarding that, however. It was not his place to take Noctis’ friend away from him. The young man was in a desperate need of a close confidant.

That also meant that they could not just dismiss this illness with professionalism alone. Ignis decided to offer a compromise.

“You can visit him tomorrow morning.”

Noctis frowned, approaching his answer with a hint of doubt, “I have work tomorrow. You said dad wanted me to be there and learn some... Document things? If this is some kind of test of my dedication or whatever - it’s really not the time for that.”

Ignis shook his head, “It is not a test. If you’d like, I will speak with Mr. Caelum on your behalf. This was an unexpected event, and I believe that in this instance it would be more beneficial for you to see your colleague than spend your day learning ins and outs of running a business. We have time for that in the future as well.”

That was enough to make Noctis perk up. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“You mean that?”

“Yes. I’m taking you to Prompto’s next morning. If there is a fallout to this decision, I will deal with it to the best of my ability.”

Ignis had expected the smile to widen, if he was lucky - to the point where Noctis’ eyes closed with the warmth of it. That was the most sincere smile he ever offered, and Ignis found himself extremely fond of that particular expression. But he was willing to settle for much less as long as his charge cheered up just a little. A hard evening awaited Noctis without the presence of his friend.

The true extent of Noctis’ joy nearly knocked Ignis off his feet, quite literally. The young man was no more sitting, he jumped from the chair and gave his manager a hug. A warm smile was present as well.

“Thank you.”

Ignis couldn’t help but return the smile with one of the same warmth. He reached up and ruffled Noctis’ dark hair. An immediate sense of guilt made him smooth it out just moments later, however.

“Come, now. Your father is waiting for us.”

“Okay.”

***

Noctis had accepted the glass of champagne offered to him as a polite gesture but he had no intention to drink it. Trying father’s wine behind his back a couple of times had been enough of an unpleasant experience to turn Noctis away from alcohol for good. Or, at least, that was what he had thought. He was starting to reconsider that stance.

Alcohol helped people calm down, right? With the constant nervous jitters pulling at his limbs and making his heart speed up, palms - sweat... It couldn’t harm.

He glanced in the glass. What stared back was a liquid in pale gold. Translucent, filled with bubbles that kept rising to the top - there was something hypnotizing about it. Noctis breathed it in - the faint notes that his nose did not care to try and discern. Smelled like it could give him a relief, and that was good enough.

Glass pressed to his lips, Noctis took the first sip. Smooth and sour, the drink made its way down and warmed his insides. The feeling elicited a shiver. It was not entirely unpleasant. If only he could avoid the sourness… Noctis squeezed his eyes shut and took a couple more gulps that left the glass half-finished.

His hopes of an instant relief were crushed. Other than sending a wave of warmth down to his stomach where it pooled in a somewhat acidic, unpleasant feeling, the alcohol had no effect at all. Noctis frowned at the glass of bubbling disappointment. Did he need to drink more of it? Probably. Gladio could down several beers before he appeared even a little buzzed.

Setting his personal trainer as his drinking meter, Noctis took a deep breath and lifted the glass to his mouth again to empty it. This one had to go down, and he would be in need of some more as well. Noctis’ body fought the sourness, a jerky shiver running through him. Even his gag reflex kicked into gear. He forced both to submit to his decision of getting tipsy.

The initial fight response of his body started to die down, and Noctis inhaled, daring to part his lips to do so. A rush of excitement and victory made him stand a little taller. He was not sure if it was the doing of alcohol or himself, but the crowd around didn’t seem as scary any longer. Either this stuff or what it made him feel numbed his anxiety. He needed to get more of it.

Blue gaze scanned the table with food options lined on it. There was a platter full of champagne glasses on it. Noctis fixed his gaze on it and steered that way. He needed, by the feel of it, two more. No, three. ...Four, maybe?

He made it halfway there before Ignis stepped in front of him. Noctis tried to loop around him, but the manager moved to block his path again. Their gazes met. Ignis’ concerned stare that was veiled slightly by the shine of his glasses made Noctis deflate a little. There was a kind of frown on the manager’s face that Noctis did not dare mess with.

“I believe that is enough, Noctis.”

The model felt a cold chill sneak up his spine. He was not sure what emotion had caused it, but it settled inside of him. Burning cheeks, a pout and childish spite in his very core. Noctis crossed his arms as much as the glass in his hands would allow it. The object dangled awkwardly from his fingers, making Noctis’ entire stance appear odd at best.

Ignis reached out to take the glass and turned it to face the right way up again.

“You should reconsider how you hold a glass,” he said.

Noctis followed the other’s gaze to his feet. They were both standing on a pale blue carpet. A small patch of moisture marred the otherwise pristine color. The remains of Noctis’ first glass of champagne had ended up on the floor. He felt a slight pang of guilt. It was one thing to make a mess in his own room. Making a mess where someone they didn’t know had to clean up felt bad.

“Do you think it will stain?”

“No,” Ignis reassured with a simple shake of his head. “Not after the carpet is cleaned. But I would advise you to be more considerate in the future regardless.”

Whatever spite had been present seemed to melt right out of Noctis, leaving him looking like a child. Nervous fingers sought for something to tamper with and hooked into the same loose thread. It seemed twice as long already, plucked at for hours.

His charge was a rather distressing sight to Ignis that evening. Noctis had managed to talk to only a couple of people before shying away in the corner with his then still full glass of champagne. Since then the impression had deteriorated further, and Ignis was facing a young man that clearly needed a break.

“Would you like to step outside for a moment? I think some fresh air could do you good.”

It was the speed of Noctis’ gaze snapping up from the ground and meeting his that assured Ignis he was making the right call. He saw a faint glimmer of hope behind layers of confusion, unwillingness, even desperation. Something less heartbreaking still lurked in the depths, but it was hard to make it out. How did Prompto manage to bring it to surface so easily? Ignis found himself envious of the skill.

“Come on,” he placed his hand on Noctis’ shoulder and steered him out of the ballroom.

The moment they left the main place of gathering, everything became muffled. Conversations, music, laughter - it all turned into a distant echo somewhere behind them. So did the bright lights. The hallway they walked down was dim, lights pointing out only two ways - one leading towards the bathrooms while the other led to a wardrobe and exit. Ignis followed the second path without stopping to pick up their coats.

Night that awaited behind the closed door offered them a calm, dark refuge. Trees encasing the building cleared the air in the area so breathing deeply didn’t fill lungs with as much car exhaust gas. There was freshness, and there was a flutter of falling leaves. The stars overhead were partially blocked out by passing clouds. It felt like standing in an entirely different world all of a sudden.

Noctis shivered and pulled his suit jacket tighter around himself. The week spent in the heat of Lestallum had left a lasting impression on his body. It craved the dry heat that was barely dampened by the approaching winter. Insomnia did not hold warmth in the same way. Winds sweeping in from the ocean had turned and headed the other way. All the remnants of summer were whisked into the fields of endless waves. For the country’s capital, Insomnia was far from ideal weather-wise. His goosebumps were enough of a proof for that.

There was a movement next to him, and Noctis looked up to see Ignis unbuttoning his jacket. He couldn’t hold in an amused snort when he saw that.

“You don’t need to. I am not a maiden in distress.”

“It is a measure of precaution, nothing more. I cannot afford you too to fall ill too.”

“Ignis, I’m fine.”

The manager’s fingers halted, halfway done with the buttons. He eyed Noctis to decide how trustworthy that answer was. The final decision seemed to be ‘fairly so’. Ignis sighed and began buttoning the jacket back up, not able to leave it in a state of disarray.

“Very well. But do let me know if you get too cold. We can head back inside,” Ignis glanced at Noctis and saw his face wrinkle up with a tired expression. “...Or we can return home. But no sooner than an hour later.”

There was hope in that answer. Noctis gave a nod to assure Ignis - he could handle another hour. Having a deadline was helpful. It meant that there was an end to this anxiety. It also meant he would be an hour closer to seeing Prompto again. The thought sent a small rush of warmth through him. He missed the other’s goofing around more than he cared to admit out loud.

Noctis pulled out his phone and gave Ignis a questioning look. He was forbidden to take it out during the fundraiser in order to not seem closed off. They were technically not at the event in that exact moment, though. Noctis decided to test his boundaries and wiggled the device in front of Ignis’ face.

“Can I check my messages? We’re outside. I will put it back before we go in.”

Ignis sighed, “If you must. Do not get carried away, however. It is cold, I do not wish for the weather to get to you. You are not even wearing a coat.”

“Yes, mom.”

Noctis could feel a glare aimed at his temple. He grinned. Specs hated it when he was called that so, of course, he had to. Ignis never said a thing about it, but his displeasure was clear as a day - his whole body became as stiff as if it was made of wood.

The little bit of mischievous joy turned into curiosity when the phone in his hands lit up with a notification. Noctis unlocked his phone and glanced down at it with childish joy. He was used to the device being quiet and going off only for business reasons. That had changed. There were Instagram notifications to look through now and constant messages both from Luna and Prompto. He was allowed to respond only to his friends. Comments on the Instagram page had to go through Ignis first. They were still fun to read, though.

Noctis opened the app and went through the recent ones. Slowly, a satisfied grin appeared on his face. Really attractive girls were fawning over him. Whatever anxieties he had were easily alleviated by that. Besides, seeing Prompto turn green with envy about the attention was quite a show to witness too. Two birds, one stone.

Ignis leaned against the doorframe while his companion enjoyed his dose of what appeared to be social media. It was a pleasant thing to see Noctis this engaged when there was no former interest in such a crucial aspect of being a public person. The manager’s best guess for the reason was the compliments that kept piling up. Gladiolus had complained that those would blow Noctis’ ego out of proportion, but Ignis found himself in disagreement. It seemed that the model’s prideful nature came out the most when dealing with his trainer. That made Ignis suspect a rivalry of sorts. Both Noctis and Gladio seemed to enjoy it well enough so he didn’t interfere in the matter.

The scrolling ceased after a moment, and Noctis kept staring at something. Ignis hesitated, unwilling to intrude upon the other’s privacy and looking over his shoulder. But something about the young man’s silence was tense. A question couldn’t hurt.

“Is everything alright?”

Noctis didn’t reply right away. He kept staring at the screen even as it began to dim. He had opened his text message exchange with Prompto. They had sent each other memes late last night and since then - nothing really. Noctis’ questions about Prompto’s whereabouts were all read and left unanswered. Somehow, that punched a dark hole in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey, Ignis?” he started much more confidently than the question proceeded. “Do you think-... Is it a good idea to go see Prompto? I know I want to see him. What if he doesn’t want to see me, though?”

There was silence - crisp, harsh. Ignis approached Noctis and placed a hand on his shoulder. The small squeeze made Noctis meet his gaze. It was sure and kind, and the model felt tension ease out of his body. Beyond someone who worried about him all the time, Ignis was something of a parent. He always looked up to Ignis for guidance when he was unsure.

“He spent half the phone conversation in the morning on apologizing to me about his phone credit running out and telling me to apologize to you that he couldn’t make it.”

Noctis’ eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t tell me that!”

“I did. You zoned out after I mentioned Prompto’s absence. For someone as fond of him as you are, you sure are absent-minded when it comes to listening to what other information there might be accessible.”

Ignis had the front row seats to a show of colors changing on Noctis’ cheeks. It was not the frost biting his face that made the rosy tones appear. It had to be shame or something of its kin - nothing else had managed to make Noctis blush that deep red before.

“I’m not… ‘Fond of him’ or whatever! I’m going back in!”

A moment later Ignis was left outside alone with the door slammed in his face. It seemed he had struck a chord he did not realize was there.

*** 

The Rolls Royce pulled over next to the sidewalk with a perfected grace. Its door opened, and Noctis stepped outside, sand crunching against the pavement when the soles of his boots made contact with the ground. He reached back into the car to pick up a box that was wrapped with a yellow ribbon. Balancing that in one hand and with a bomber jacket in the other, Noctis pushed the door closed with his hip.

He watched Ignis head further down the street until the car disappeared around the corner. A sigh of relief left Noctis. It dissipated in a white cloud of breath along with his stiffness. For some reason, Ignis had been quiet ever since last night. He didn’t even nag about the clothes that were once again strewn all about Noctis’ room after he was done getting dressed. The model figured that he had done something wrong. Likely - slamming the door in the other’s face during the fundraiser. A mental note to self not to do it again.

Noctis turned towards the apartment building he was standing next to. Chipping corners and a less than perfect yard where yellow patches of overgrown grass mingled with entire sections of dirt. The place was not a looker. But it was Prompto’s home. Ignis had warned him early to be sensitive about the differences between what he had grown up with and what Prompto might be used to. That had been the morning before they met Prompto, and Noctis had kept that promise ever since.

He glanced down at the box in his arms. The colorful glazing of several homemade eclairs peeked through the plastic top. Under the ribbon that kept the present intact was tucked a small note with Prompto’s apartment number. Noctis made a face, realizing that the numbers written by Ignis meant a climb to the top of the building. Next to those was a small comment that read “attic apartment”.

Noctis lifted his head to see how high he had to climb to reach his destination. The sight made him groan. Seven stories worth of stairs awaited. If he was lucky, there was going to be an elevator to bring him all the way up. Tucking the box under his arm to protect it, Noctis made his way to the door of the building.

The luck was not on his side that day. A notice about a broken elevator awaited inside. The crude doodles on it along with the yellowing paper and a single ripped edge gave him an impression that the elevator was not functional for a while already, and that it was not about to magically change anytime soon. Noctis turned to the stairs and began his unwilling ascent - flight by flight, taking a break every few flights.

He realized that he had reached the attic level when there were no more flights of stairs leading up, no elevator (he had seen it last on the previous floor) and that the roof sloped overhead. Noctis stopped to take one final break. He was a little out of breath. This was comparable to the kind of a light workout he did whenever Gladio was not there to pester him about pushing his boundaries. Noctis wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked around.

There was a single door to choose from so Noctis didn’t bother to double check the numbers on the note. He pulled it out from underneath the ribbon, crumpled it up and stashed the note in his pocket next to loose change and chewing gum. He would toss it out later. If he remembered.

Noctis rose his hand to knock on the door to find himself suddenly shy. Some sort of timidness he had not felt before coursed through him. It was a first, and Noctis’ spite surfaced in response. It pushed him, and knuckles hit the faded paint on the door in three loud knocks. He swallowed the remnants of the new feeling and stood up straighter.

Something inside the room was knocked over - there was a crash followed by a string of barely muffled curses. Whatever it was, it seemed like the object had made a mess when it fell.

“Give me a minute! I’ll-,” a couple of coughs interrupted him, but Prompto squished out the rest of the sentence as well. “I’ll be right there!”

Noctis smirked, cocking his hip. He was tempted to tease the other through the door but, as far as he was aware, this was a surprise visit that Prompto had not been clued in about. Keeping the surprise unrevealed was an idea that held more than just a little appeal. Noctis wondered if he could catch Prompto off guard - that would serve him well for his own constant teasing.

He had a dawning feeling that looking good and collected could help with that. Noctis tossed his jacket over the arm that held the box of pastries. A hand ran through his hair, straightening the few strands that the wind that had blown out of the place. Ignis had made sure his wardrobe was appropriate so Noctis saw no reason to check upon that - his manager was not satisfied with anything short of perfection.

Noctis was about to readjust his jacket back on the other arm when the key turned in the lock and he was caught mid-movement. The door creaked open, and Prompto faced him. It seemed that it took a while for the other to register who was standing in front of his door.

And then it clicked, so visibly. Prompto’s illness-flushed cheeks turned pale, and his eyes widened. He moved to shield himself with the door as if the fact that he was wearing pajama pants with superheroes and a dirty T-shirt had just dawned.

“Noct! What are you doing here?!”

“Ignis said I could come to visit,” Noctis lifted the box he was holding. “I have sweets.”

Prompto sputtered, unsure what to do, “My apartment is a mess…?”

“It’s fine, you know. Not like mine’s clean.”

“Yeah, probably, but you don’t have, like, snotty tissues all over the place.”

Noctis shrugged, “Maybe I have something worse. You haven’t seen it yet!”

“I mean… I guess I can’t argue with that,” Prompto stammered, trying to imagine what in the world Noctis was talking about, and the single idea that crossed his mind made Prompto’s cheeks flush again.

Prompto’s initial resistance was wearing off. The door creaked open a little more, revealing the young man and inside of an apartment that radiated heat to Noctis. Prompto shuffled back a bit and gave Noctis an unsure smile.

“Come in. And forgive my mess.”

Noctis was visibly more pleased with that answer. He held the box out to Prompto and stepped inside with a wide grin. His heart skipped a beat with excitement. This was the second time in Noctis’ life when he was afforded a chance to visit a friend in their home. The other one was Luna’s birthday party, and her protective big brother had been enough of a reason for the two to move their further meetings to public places.

It did not take longer than a second to figure out that Luna and Prompto lived two very different lives. Where her house had been bright and spacious in a familiar manner, Prompto was living in a rather cramped dwelling. There were no marble floors nor high windows or flowers. But it was cozy and smelled of summer. Noctis couldn’t quite put his finger on what the smell of the place was. It was warm, earthy and faint.

A series of coughs behind him made Noctis turn back to Prompto. The photographer was clutching his throat with one hand, a pained expression on his face. When he noticed Noctis looking, Prompto forced out a brave smile and removed his grasp to hold the gift with both hands again.

“Sorry, that probably looks crazy.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Noctis shook his head and made his way to Prompto. “It must hurt.”

He took the box from Prompto again, looked around for a place to put it and settled for a table. It was covered in photographs of mountains so Noctis moved a few very carefully and wiggled the box in the freshly cleaned space. He then looked at the photographs. None of those had showed up in Prompto’s personal Instagram.

“Are those yours?”

“I wish!” Prompto joined him and pointed out one of the photos where the ink of the printer had run dry and the colors looked faded. “I wanted to make this photo corner of photographs from people whose stuff I like so I printed a bunch. Kinda overestimated how much ink I had. But yeah, that was the plan. See, I even cleared the wall up!”

Noctis looked to where Prompto was pointing. While the other walls were covered with something - posters, calendars, sticky notes with things scribbled on them, there was one entirely bare one opposite to window. Along the top of it, fairy lights were strung up in what seemed to be a fairly recent and a little awkward formation. That did not dampen Noctis’ interest.

“You put those up yourself?”

“The lights? Yeah,” Prompto offered an awkward smile and a cough that once more made his face twist in pain. “I know they're kind of crooked and-”

“They look cool, and I think that when you put the pictures up it’s gonna look really awesome.”

The two stared at one another in silence, and something warm hung in the air as they exchanged half-smiles. Prompto broke away first, dropping his gaze shyly.

“Thanks, Noct. I’m glad you like the idea.”

A crackle of music, coming from headphones rather than speakers, reached Noctis’ ears. He looked around for the source of it to find Prompto’s laptop in his bed with the headphones perched on top of the screen. It was open to a music video he had never seen. Noctis inclined his head and sauntered closer. Curiosity drove him to great lengths past the limits his laziness would usually enforce.

Prompto noticed, and felt heat climbing up along his neck.

“You won’t like that! It’s like this acoustic thing,” he warned before any jabs about his girly taste in music could come his way.

Noctis did not listen and reached out to nab the headphones off the top of the screen. The headband in his hand, he looked up at the owner with a silent question.

Prompto sighed. He hoped that he was not going to regret that. There was another coughing fit building up in his chest, and his priorities really were elsewhere than fighting with Noctis.

“Yeah, I guess, if you really want to. I’ll go make something to drink. You-” he didn’t manage to keep the coughing fit at bay.

Noctis jumped at the terrible sounds once more coming from Prompto. Deep and unsettling kind of cough, he felt it echo a feeling in his own chest cavity. Noctis put the headphones down. Perhaps it was not the best time to be messing with Prompto after all. He wanted to help.

“I can make you coffee or something?” Noctis offered. “Just, like, show me where things are. And don’t expect it to be good, I never make coffee.”

Prompto broke out into soft laughter which caused Noctis to frown. The other was a little pale and weak due to illness but still reached out with the same warmth to pat his back in a familiar way.

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll make the drinks. Tea, coffee, cocoa?”

“...Cocoa.”

“Knew you were a kid!”

Before Noctis could chase him down about that comment, Prompto disappeared in what seemed like a kitchen. It would be dangerous to just go running into a room that he did not know and that probably had knives and glass items they could knock over. Seemed like he would have to get Prompto the next time. Noctis sighed and looked around for a place to sit down.

A drop of sweat rolling down his forehead made him realize just how stuffy the apartment was. The exercise of making his way up all those flights of stairs only added to the feeling of being sticky and gross despite having showered just a couple of hours ago. Noctis looked back to the kitchen. The warmth was important, he got that. But-... This place also needed some air. Maybe he should ask Prompto about opening a window when he returned. Ignis would reprimand him for doing so without asking.

Noctis wandered closer to a little nest in Prompto's bed that was left empty. It was comprised of a giant, thick blanket, his laptop that was plugged in the socket hiding behind the bed and a big box that contained tissues. The other had not lied - there was a trash bin in front of the bed, brimming with crumpled up, used tissues. The mountain of paper towering over the edge of it seemed like a rather uncertain construction that would come toppling down if one breathed a little harder around it. Noctis decided that it was safer to keep his distance. He really was not in the mood of cleaning anything up.

Instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb anything too much. The warm scent he had noticed in the room before got stronger. Noctis looked around for the source of it but found nothing other than the round blanket formation of Prompto’s. Perhaps the scent did not belong to the room or anything in it but rather its inhabitant. Somehow, that thought made him smile.

“Shit.”

Noctis chuckled at Prompto’s arrival that was heralded by a curse. From the looks of it, the other had stubbed his toe on the doorstep. Still, he carried on and bravely delivered two steaming cups to the bed. He held one out to Noctis who took it and inhaled the sweet scent of cocoa. It sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“Thanks. Your foot okay?”

“I mean,” Prompto glanced down at the sock-covered foot and wiggled it to test it. “It hurts. But battle scars are sexy, right?”

Noctis nearly snorted out the first sip of cocoa he had managed, “I don’t think that a stubbed toe counts as a battle scar.”

Prompto cracked a smile and sat down next to him.

“I guess.”

The blond shuffled back towards the thick blanket and pulled it over his shoulders as a heavy, warm cape with one hand while the other balanced a cup of herbal tea. The moving about caused his laptop to slide off the corner of the blanket and land on the mattress. Prompto reached out to fix it when a thought made him pause.

His hand hovered over the connector of the headphones, “You still want to hear? The music?”

“Sure.”

Prompto nodded and unplugged the headphones.

The room around them filled with sounds light and golden, and sweet. Noctis who had expected something cheesy to come from the computer felt his grin slowly falling. The music mingled with the stuffy warmth of the room, the smell of cocoa and Prompto and also something inside of himself that he could not quite put a finger on.

The blankets shifted, and suddenly Prompto was right next to him with his tea and his warm breath that smelled like cough drops. Noctis realized he was not able to meet the other’s gaze, and warmth climbed to his cheeks. There was something that expanded inside of his chest, filling it with the same pale golden warmth as the music did the room. It didn’t disappoint like the champagne had, it did the opposite, actually. Everything felt really right at that moment.

“You like it?” Prompto’s voice, a little more hoarse than usually, mingled in the feeling of the moment.

Noctis didn’t argue, just gave a nod, “What kind of music is that?”

“Sigur Rós. They are from Iceland.”

“Cool.”

When he didn’t say anything more, Prompto poked his side, and Noctis looked up to meet his gaze. It didn’t take Noctis much more than a sight of his bundled up friend to know what unsettled his peace so. It was not the music that made him feel this way, it was Prompto. Every bit of Noctis’ skin tingled with shy, juvenile affection. All the music did was make him daydream of reaching out and touching, and kissing.

The words tumbled past his lips with no grace at all.

“...I think I really like Sigur Rós.”


End file.
